Family Ties
by Grazia D
Summary: The Adventures of Brisco County Jr. Brisco defends his baby sister Jessie when she's brought to trial.
1. The Beginning of the End Part I

_**May 13, 1892**_

_**San Francisco, California**_

The morning sun streaming through the thin curtains pulled Brisco County Jr. from a deep sleep. It was the deepest sleep he'd had since he could recall, and he was more than a little reluctant to give it up so easily. He stretched before pulling the stiff cotton sheets over his head, hoping to catch a few more winks before getting out of bed and greeting the day.

But the pounding on the door to his rented room told him someone else had something other than letting him catch up on some well deserved rest on their mind.

"Brisco!" he recognized the voice behind the knocking and cursed silently as he stumbled out of the comfort a warm bed to unlock the door. Ellie was waiting on the other side, looking fresh and alarmingly awake for what Brisco considered an ungodly hour. A difficult feat considering the Horseshoe Club manager had probably been up the entire night. "Brisco, did I wake you?" she asked.

"What time is it?" Brisco asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His head was beginning to pound, reminding him of the large quantity of whiskey he had consumed during a rather satisfying game of poker the night before.

"Early." she answered, her tone devoid of the lighthearted sarcasm he would have expected. "But I thought you'd want to see this." Brisco glanced down at her outstretched hand, taking the folded newspaper from her grasp.

"What?" he asked as he unfolded the paper, his stomach clenching at the sight of the bold headline and the true to life sketch underneath.

_**May 10, 1892**_

_**Reno, Nevada**_

She straightened the hat on her head as she deliberately made her way down the stairs. It was still early and the only soul moving inside the hotel was the sweaty hotel manager who always seemed to have a reason to knock on her door at all hours of the day. He barely glanced up at her as she descended the staircase, muttering a weak "good morning, Mrs. Dawkins" as she passed him. She nodded her hello, wondering briefly why the front doors were closed, even with the suppressing late spring heat already stifling inside the hotel.

She pulled the door open, her eyes downcast. She failed to see the nearly dozen men approach as she verified the door was shut securely behind her, but the familiar sound of weapons being armed made her pause.

"Jessamyn County! You turn around slowly, with your hands in the air, this can all have a happy ending for you." Jessie paused, weighing her options slowly in her mind. "There's ten of us right here, five more scattered throughout the town. There's no way out, County. Best you can do is give yourself up." Jessie bit her lips and heaved a deep sigh.

"Damn." she muttered.

_**May 11, 1892**_

Her arms had gone numb hours ago. Her body ached from standing for so long. The chains wrapped around her wrists rubbed the skin raw with every movement and bump the train made. Her eyes washed over the small train car for what seemed like the thousandth time. Both windows on each side of the railcar were lined with thick wrought iron bars. Her arms were chained above her head, attached to a six inch thick piece of wood that ran the length of the car, giving her the freedom to walk around. Well, pace back and forth at least. That is, if she enjoyed the feeling of the rusted chain link digging into her wrists when the chain snagged on some rut or bump in the wood, which she learned from experience happened a lot more than she preferred. Besides, it took quite a bit of concentration just to keep her balance. If she was calculating correctly, they were less than an hour from Tucson. That is, if Tucson was where the train was headed.

The air inside the railcar was stale and heavy, the windows not nearly big enough to circulate fresh air throughout the car. Sweat rolled down her skin, causing her clothing to cling uncomfortably to her. Her mouth was dry and her stomach reminded her it had been quite a while since she had last eaten.

Behind her, the sound of metal sliding against metal pulled her thoughts away from her current discomfort. Someone had just entered the car. The smell of whiskey and cigar smoke was familiar. It was the marshal who had arrested her. She could hear him pull the Smith and Wesson from its leather. He slowly pulled the hammer back and carefully send it home repeatedly, arming and disarming the weapon in hopes of unnerving her, she supposed.

She shifted her weight from her right to her left foot and sighed impatiently. "I hope you brought me some water." she began snidely "It's awfully hot in here." She listened to his footsteps as he leisurely made his way to her right, stopping when he was just barely visible in her peripheral. He checked the chamber of the revolver before twirling it on his forefinger and replacing it back into the leather.

"We'll see what we can do about getting you water, once we're in Tucson and you're safely locked up." the marshal sneered, leaning close. She could smell the stale cigar smoke on his breath.

"Remind me to complain about the service on this trip." she shot back, twisting her lips into a sarcastic grin. She wasn't prepared for the sharp punch to the side. She gasped as the wind was knocked from her, her knees buckled, the only thing keeping her upright was the fact her wrists were still chained above her head. She quickly grabbed hold of her senses and wrapped her fingers around the chain to keep the metal from digging deep into her wrists and steadied herself, concentrating on getting her breathing back on track.

"You are a sarcastic little cuss, aren't you?" The marshal stepped into her line of sight, a sick grin upon his face. "We're gonna change that real soon."

"I'm sure." She forced the grin back on her face, ignoring the throbbing pain in her side.

"You do realize what's going to happen, don't you, County?" Jessie's superior expression didn't change. "They're gonna take you to trial, they're gonna find you guilty, and then, they're gonna hang you. And wipe that smug little grin off your goddamn face."

"I'm sure." Jessie repeated, her expression unchanged. The marshal chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief before sending another blow, this time directly to Jessie's stomach. Her fingers unraveled from the chain as she pitched forward, causing the chain to dig into her flesh, awakening her arms with new daggers of pain. She forced herself to stand up straight, the pain in her arms lessening once her weight was no longer supported by her wrists. "Always a gentleman, eh, Marshal Steele?" The sick grin was still spread across his face, the gold incisor glinting in the sunlight.

"You think you deserve to be treated any different from a male prisoner, County?" Steele asked, his brow furrowed, the lines between his eyes much deeper than normal. "If I had my way, I would have killed you back in Reno. It'd save a lot of time and money." Jessie remained silent, her eyes fixed solely on Steele dark gaze. "What? Nothing to say? Don't tell me you're all out of sarcastic things to say already?" Jessie waited a few moments before spitting in Steele's face, ready for the next assault, this time, a back hand across her left cheek. "You killed my brother, County, and I'm going to enjoy watching you hang."

"You killed my husband." she hissed, fixating on his gaze yet again, her eyes sapphire slits. "I was aiming at you, anyway."

"Your husband." he chuckled lightly. "'Doc' Sutton was a wanted criminal. He killed two deputies. A quick death by a bullet in the back was much too good for him." He taunted her, willing her to do anything that would warrant another hit. Jessie knew it. She bit her bottom lip and stayed silent. "What, you don't agree? Naw, I suppose you wouldn't. But watching you hang will make me feel a whole lot better." He let his gaze slide over her, his face twisted in amusement before continuing. "And you were aiming at me, hmm?" An acerbic grin taunted her further. "Hard to shoot with a bullet in the gut, huh? You know, that always surprised me. I've never seen anyone survive being gut shot."

"Just lucky, I guess." she said quietly, trying to reinforce her tone with light sarcasm, choosing to leave out the fact she would have certainly died if her brother hadn't found her near Hachita and nursed her back to health.

Steele broke her gaze and turned toward the window, watching the scenery pass by for a few moments, a content look on his face. "We'll be in Tucson soon. Funny," he continued, his eyes never wavering. "You're so concerned with 'Doc' Sutton, but you found yourself another husband so soon after I killed him." Steele let his eyes wash over her once more before heading to the back of the car, pausing before pulling the door open to exit. "So, you think your daddy will come and show his support for his wayward little girl?"


	2. Part II

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_**I forgot to mention earlier, I do not own the characters of Brisco County Jr. I wish I did, but sadly, I don't. I just bring them out every now and then, cause they still deserve to play. However, any character you don't recognize is my own creation. I'm not making any money off of this, no copyright infringment is intended, yada, yada, yada. Now, back to the story.**_

_**I'd like to personally thank K.C. Harte and Alexis Katherine for sticking by me. You two are the greatest Brisco fans I know**_

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_**May 15, 1892**_

_**Two miles south of Mesquite, Nevada**_

He could hear nothing but the sound of the wind rushing past his ears and the pounding of the hoof beats as they struck the earth. The bay gelding raced along at breakneck speed at the urging of its rider, its breath heavy, its skin coated with a thin layer of sweat. Both rider and horse were oblivious to the sudden drenching downpour, focused more on the target in front of them.

Brisco County Sr. ignored the fact the black slouch hat slipped from his head, caught in a sudden updraft of wind that accompanied the early summer storm. The stampede strings ensured the hat would travel no further than his shoulders. He dug his heels into the gelding's flanks, willing it to go faster, knowing from experience, the horse had a ways to go before reaching its breaking point.

Fifty feet ahead of them, the target, known only as Pequeño Hermano forced the paint to its breaking point, every so often firing a wild shot over his shoulder in a vain attempt to ward off the approaching lawman. Marshal County could sense the man's fear. He also knew the older stallion, stolen from Mesquite when the Marshal attempted to arrest Pequeño for a wide array of outstanding warrants, was no match for his younger bay.

The length between the hunter and the hunted slowly began to decrease, the target's horse quickly growing tired, as Marshal County had expect it would. Pequeño felt the lawman close behind him and turned at the waist, taking a few seconds to aim before firing the last shot in the chamber. Marshal County felt the rush of wind as the bullet whizzed past his ear, but the lawman stayed calm, leaving his pearl handled Colt in it's holster. It wouldn't be needed.

The bay slowly flanked the older paint. Pequeño waved an arm out wildly, as if he was trying to shoo the marshal away. Marshal County reached out and grabbed for an arm, a piece of clothing, anything to yank the rider from the saddle. He could hear the sounds of the Virgin River rushing down below as they inched ever closer to the edge of the trail, and the drop off of nearly one hundred feet that followed. The sound was barely audible over the downpour; he was uncertain Pequeño could even hear it. County edged away from the outlaw slightly, needing the outlaw to be brought in alive, and not wanting to follow Pequeño if he did happen to tumble.

"No me capturarás, Señor Brisco County." Pequeño yelled, his voice drowned out by the distant rumble of thunder. He yanked on the reins and turned into County, the paint slamming into the shoulder of the bay, sending the gelding into a momentary fit of panic. County held tight to the reins as the horse reared slightly and let out an alarmed whinny, its head tossing angrily from side to side.

"Okay, boy." County murmured soothingly, patting the gelding's neck lightly before forcing it to continue. The bay gladly responded and quickly closed the gap achieved by Pequeño's sudden movement.

"Ir al infierno!" The outlaw hissed, punching madly at the air when Marshal County reappeared, hoping to connect with a swing. County reached out once more. Pequeño seemed to sense what was happening and yanked on the reins once again, this time veering off to the right, and away from the grasp of the law. Marshal County cursed silently under his breath, but didn't follow, knowing just how close to the edge they actually were.

County watched as Pequeño's horse raced toward the edge, sensing the danger at the last second. The paint screeched to a halt just inches from the edge, dipping its large head down, the centripetal force keeping its rider in motion. County slowed his bay to a walk and watched as the outlaw slid from the saddle and disappeared beneath the edge, his terrified scream cut sickeningly short seconds after. Marshal County dismounted and led his exhausted horse to the edge, his face expressionless when he noticed the broken body of the outlaw twisted at odd angles at the water's edge. He heaved a deep sigh and grabbed the reins of the stolen paint before hopping back into his saddle.

"Come on, boys." County mumbled, reattaching the hat to his head. The rest of the day would be spent gathering the body of Pequeño and transporting him back to Mesquite. At least it would keep him busy for the time being, and hopefully quiet the nagging feeling that had dogged him for nearly a week.

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It was nearly midnight before Marshal County made it back to the small town where all the trouble began. Off to his left, the stolen paint puttered along silently, carrying the stiff body of one of the West's most elusive cattle rustlers.

From his spot outside the town's only saloon, still brightly lit and alive with music, Sheriff Lincoln Forrester watched as the marshal slowly made his way to the jail, conveniently located just across the thoroughfare. Forrester took a final drag from his cigarette before extinguishing it beneath his boot and pushed himself off the support beam. He ambled across the muddy street, a wide smile spread across his face when he caught the marshal's eye.

"I never woulda expected him to come back like this." his voice was laced with a heavy Southern dialect, his words heavy and uncertain, the nervousness he felt just being in County's presence evident.

"Damned fool." County muttered. "Ran himself right over a cliff." Forrester chuckled lightly.

"Well, he's a damned fool for trying to get away from one of the best United States Marshals to ever live." County turned and caught Forrester's eye, his face emotionless.

"He was a damned fool to break the law in the first place." County said, unnerving Forrester even more with his stoic tone. But Marshal County sensed something more. Something underlying that caused the sheriff to be so edgy.

County glanced down when the movement of Forrester's hand caught his eye. The sheriff was tapping a folded newspaper against his thigh in an erratic beat. Forrester attempted to hide the paper from the marshal by slipping it behind his leg when he realized County noticed what was in his grasp.

"What's that?"

"Uh, nothing." Forrester said quickly, his words tumbling over one another. "Would you mind helping me get him inside? Gotta store him some place 'til morn. The doc ain't gonna like being woke at this hour." County wasn't listening. He reached out and yanked the paper from the sheriff's grasp, letting a suspicious eye wander over the younger man before unfolding the crinkled paper. "Marshal, I ain't sure that's the best idea." His voice sounded as if he were miles away and had no effect on the impassive County. His expression failed to change as his eyes washed over the headline, screaming "Killer Outlaw Jessie County Captured!". Inside, he felt his stomach sink and his heartbeat quicken as he focused on the sketch of his only daughter staring up at him from underneath the bold headline. He felt the urge to yell, to kick, to rip the paper into tiny shreds and viciously beat the sheriff who stood before him, just because the kid happened to be in reach. Instead, County blinked heavily and handed the paper back, raising an eyebrow impatiently when the sheriff failed to immediately take it from his grasp.

"Well, come on. Let's get him inside." Forrester stared at County, still frozen in a mix of terror and shock. "Come on, son. The man ain't going to get in there by himself."

"Well, actually, Marshal, if you want to head on out of here, I'll understand. I can take care of him." Forrester offered quietly, nodding toward the lifeless body of Pequeño.

"Why?"

"Well…" Forrester paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Sir, I know Jessie County is your daughter, and I thought you'd probably want to head on down to Tucson as soon as possible."

"Why?" Forrester's pale blue eyes widened in disbelief, but failed to answer. "I said a long time ago she should have just turned herself in. They wouldn't be so harsh on her that way. But Jessamyn's made her own bed, and now she's got to lie in it."

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_**Sorry it's so short. I'll try and make the next one longer :)**_


	3. Steele Reserve

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Thanks a mil to K.C. Harte for her help with the timeline!

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The smell of gunpowder hung thick in the air. Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound of blood rushing to her head nearly deafening. She turned her head and caught sight of George, his green eyes wide, beckoning to her. He was yelling to her, but his voice lost amid the thunderous volley of bullets that every once in a while came much too close for comfort.

Behind her, she could hear the terrified whinny of horses, the unexpected sound surprising her. She took her focus on the scene in front of her just long enough to glance behind her. The relief she felt when she saw Jim, crouching low to keep his head out of the line of fire, leading a trio of horses, Sancho among them, to where she and George were pinned quickly dissipated when a bullet smashed into the wall next to her, sending tiny splinters into her shoulder and neck.

"Christ." she hissed, her attention focused on the more pressing matter in front of her. She jumped when she felt someone roughly grab a hold of her arm, pulling her away from the wall and back behind the decent cover she hadn't realized she had left.

"Go!" George yelled, giving her a sharp shove toward Jim and the awaiting horses.

"What? No." she protested, shaking free from his grip.

"Damn it, Jess. Go!"

"County!" The bellowing voice pulled her from a fitful sleep. She didn't bother to sit up, instead chose to roll her eyes upward until she caught the offender in her sights. It was the slob of a sheriff Steele had turned her over to briefly for safe keeping in the tiny Tucson jail. The late night downpour had cooled the oppressive air, leaving the jail delightfully pleasant, but sweat already poured down the overweight sheriff's face and neck.

"What?" she asked, her tone dripping with annoyance.

"Your lawyer's here." Jessie's brow furrowed in puzzlement as she struggled to sit up, the sharp pain in her raw wrists reminding her she was still chained to the slab of wood the sheriff dared to call a bed.

"I don't have a lawyer." she muttered, situating her body so she could comfortably sit up and let her hands hang limp between her knees.

"You do now." Jessie looked up at the introduction of a new voice, rolling her eyes at what she considered the vision of a stereotypical lawyer standing in the doorway. Fancy suit, impeccable top hat, groomed mustache, air of certain self-importance. "Jonathan Howell, Ms. County." Howell removed the hat from his head and ran a thick hand over his balding red hair. "I've been chosen to defend you. Uh, Sheriff Trent, could you give some privacy?" The portly sheriff answered with a disgusted look and a spit of tobacco juice onto the floor at the lawyer's feet before pushing his way past Howell and disappeared into the early morning sunshine. Howell grabbed the hard backed wooden chair the sheriff once occupied and pulled it close to Jessie's cell. "I graduated from Yale Law in 1876 and have been practicing steadily in Phoenix for just over a decade before moving to Tucson." Jessie raised her eyebrows in feigned interest, not really listening to what the man across from her had to say. "I am quite familiar with your case, Ms. County. And if you'll allow me to describe what I have planned for your defense…"

"Look, Mr. Howell." Jessie began. "I'm sure you're a great lawyer and all, but I didn't ask for one, and I didn't ask for you."

"No, but, like I said, I was chosen to defend you. And, by all rights you are entitled to a defense attorney. Now, as I was saying…"

"I'm serious when I say I don't need you as my defense attorney."

"That's right, because she already has one." An unintentional smile formed upon Jessie's lips when she heard the familiar voice from the doorway. Howell turned in his seat, giving a disapproving eye to heeled man leaning against the doorjamb, a week's worth of growth covering his sharp jaw, his hat pushed back on his head, and an amused grin spread across his face.

"And you are?"

"Brisco County Jr., and I'm Ms. County's lawyer." Howell scoffed as he slowly looked over the man before him.

"You're a lawyer? I thought you were a bounty hunter, Mr. County." Howell sneered, his tone haughty.

"I'm also a graduate of Harvard Law. Class of 1885. Now, you mind leaving me alone with my client?" Howell stood and straighten his dress jacket before tossing a sorrowful look Jessie's way.

"Well, Ms. County, good luck. I have a feeling you will need it." Jessie waited until Howell was outside and the door shut securely behind him before speaking.

"How'd you get past all of my bodyguards outside?" she asked, the smile still on her face. Never in her entire life was she so happy to see her brother. Brisco shrugged as he settled into the chair, pushing his hat off his head before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"I'm not so sure they know I'm in here, yet. Although it's only a matter of time. How you doing, Jess?" she shrugged.

"I'm delightful, how are you?" Brisco chuckled.

"I see your reputation has, um, preceded you." he said, motioning to his sister's slender wrists.

"Seems they want me to stick around here for a while." Jessie agreed.

"So, how's the food?"

"Delicious, I'm sure. I, however, wouldn't know."

"They haven't fed you?" Brisco asked, his face etched with concern.

"Well, they did try to serve me with something they swore was food, but I declined." Jessie forced her smile wider, attempting to keep the mood light.

"I'll see if I can get you something." Brisco muttered, as if almost an afterthought.

"What are you doing here, Brisco?"

"I'm here to defend you." Brisco answered, his tone suggesting her question was the most absurd he had heard in quite a while. "So, your trial starts tomorrow and unlike the last guy, I have absolutely no idea what our defense strategy is going to be, but how hard could it be?" Jessie chuckled.

"Right. Truthfully, though, Brisco, it's all going to be for naught, anyway. I'm pretty sure the verdict's already in. And the trial is really all for show." Brisco shook his head, unable to find his voice to answer. "So, you know, thanks, but no thanks."

"They have to give you a fair trial."

"Brisco, we're in Arizona. There's no way I'm getting a fair trial in Arizona."

"I'll make sure you do." Jessie shook her head, the smile gone, her face twisted in aggravation. "I will." Brisco pressed. Jessie forced a small smile and nodded.

The sound of footsteps approaching the jailhouse door caused Brisco to lean back and fold his arms confidently across his chest, the smug look he wore so well back on his face. She recognized the confused figure in the doorway as the kind, fair haired deputy who gave her a glass of water as soon as the furor around her arrival died down.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, unsure whether to finish entering the room.

"I'm Ms. County's lawyer." Brisco answered, his expression unaffected. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm Bill Jackson. And I was told Jonathan Howell was County's lawyer."

"Well, he's not. I am."

"Well, Sheriff says times up, so, you need to leave, Mr.-"

"County." Bill's eyes narrowed as he searched Brisco's face, then widened in awe when he recognized the man sitting calmly a few feet from him.

"You're Brisco County Jr., aren't you?" Brisco nodded once before turning back to his sister.

"You going to be okay here?" he asked, truly concerned.

"I'll be fine." she answered, trying to convey a strength she certainly didn't feel. Brisco nodded and stood, giving his sister one last smile before making his way outside, quelling the urge to roll his eyes when the man in the doorway stumbled over himself to make room for the bounty hunter to pass. Once he was back out in the warmth of the morning sun, Brisco reattached the hat to his head and waited for a brief opening within the heavy traffic along the main street before quickly darting across. He slowed to a walk once he was softly on the other side, wishing silently he could slow the thoughts running through his mind as well.

It had been over four years since he had practiced law. He tried to make it work, but his heart just wasn't in it. He didn't want to admit how nervous he was to defend his sister against the list of charges he was certain was longer than his arm. But he would try. He had never let her down, and he wasn't about to start now.


	4. SR: Part II

The only sound in the room was the slow, rhythmic tapping of the pencil against the desk, a sound Brisco had no idea he was responsible for until the repetitive noise annoyed him enough to pull him from his thoughts. Disgusted, he tossed the pencil to the side and sighed, resting his head in the palms of his hands.

He hated the feeling of absolute helplessness that enveloped him. He had no idea what he was going to do. It really didn't seem too difficult a few days ago. Or maybe he was just fooling himself then.

The harsh rap on the door to his rented room startled him, causing him to jump up so quickly, his chair teetered precariously, threatening to topple over until Brisco reached out to steady it. Another brief rap followed by a muffled "Mr. County" garnered a silent curse and a holstering of the weapon he hadn't realized he'd drawn.

Brisco pulled open the door at the beginning of the third knock, happy to see the sudden movement startled the man on the other side of the door as much as the first knock had unsettled him.

"Mr. County?" Brisco ran a suspicious eye over the small-statured man standing in front of him before giving a slight nod. "Telegram for you, sir." the man reached out, offering Brisco the folded piece of paper gripped tightly in his left hand. Brisco accepted the paper and reached deep into his pants pocket, searching for a dollar by feel. After successfully fishing one of the few dollar coins he had left out of his pocket, it tossed it the messenger's way before closing the door. Brisco carefully unfolded the telegram, reading, then re-reading the short message.

_Good luck._

_Your father._

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"Here. I brought you some food from the restaurant across the street. Not the best, but it's at least edible." Jessie looked up and gave the deputy a grateful smile as he set the small plate piled high with eggs, strips of bacon, red beans, and biscuits next to her on the bench. "I got some fresh water, too."

"Thanks. I mean that." Jessie said truthfully. The deputy gave a nod before turning to head back out the all too confining jail cell. "Hey, uh, do you mind?" Jessie asked, motioning to her wrists, which were still bound tightly to the bench. The deputy looked torn, glancing toward the doorway and back again a few times before giving an apologetic smile.

"I-I…don't think I should. I'm really not supposed to."

"I'm not going anywhere, okay, I promise, but I can't very well be expected to eat with my hands chained like this." The deputy stood and pondered a few second more before unhooking the ring of keys attached to his belt and, after a quick search, located the key to free Jessie's hands. "Thank you." Jessie said quietly as the metal fell from her wrists. She winced as she rolled her wrists to lessen some of the stiffness. The iron left deep groves in her skin, a byproduct from the hours spent in them. She grabbed the fork the deputy had tucked under the pile of beans and greedily shoved a heaping amount of beans into her mouth.

"So, what did you say your name was, again?" Jessie asked, after swallowing the first satisfying bite.

"Bill." the deputy said, his face lighting up, as if he was happy to talk on a personal level with the outlaw. "Bill Jackson."

"Thank you for the food, Bill." Jessie fell silent, more concerned with filling her painfully empty stomach than with continuing the conversation, or even start planning a way out, now that her wrists were free, for the time being at least.

The plate was nearly empty by the time she beckoned for a glass of water, which was gladly handed over by Bill. Over the rim of the glass, a flash of movement caught her eye. She set the glass on the bench and turned to look out the small barred window directly at eye level. She recognized the walk even before she could see his face, her features twisted in an angry scowl as she followed his movements.

"Here. You might want to take these." Jessie said quietly, her tone dejected. She was still quite hungry, but knew if he found out the deputy had supplied her with extra food, the penalty would be severe.

"What?"

"Just take these." she hissed, sliding the plate underneath the cell and reaching through the bars to place the water glass next to it. Bill glanced her over carefully, but obeyed, setting the plate on the desk just before Marshal Steele appeared in the doorway.

"Planning on going somewhere?"

"Pardon?" Jessie asked, her azure eyes emanating pure innocence. Steele grabbed the ring of keys Bill had tossed haphazardly on the desk after releasing Jessie's wrist and approached her cell, his eyes watching her carefully as he swung open the door, nodding toward the empty chains that dangled behind her legs.

"Why isn't she still chained up like she's supposed to be?" Steele didn't bother a glance the deputy's way before grabbing a hold of Jessie's wrists roughly, succeeding in holding them tightly with one hand as he collect the irons with the other. When he felt the muscles in her arm tighten at his touch, a deep chuckle rumbled in Steele's throat as he yanked hard and pulled her forward, so she was just inches from his face. "Something wrong?" Jessie shifted her gaze downward, remaining mute. "Thought so." Steele reattached the chains to her wrists and gave her a sharp shove backward before leaving her alone in the cell once more, grinning wickedly as the keys jingled in the lock. She could feel the heat of his stare on her but she kept her gaze affixed to the floor.

"Your trial starts tomorrow." Steele spoke with the grin still upon his face, dipping his head to catch her gaze. "I hear you got yourself a new lawyer. You might have had a fighting chance with Mr. Howell."

"I hardly believe that." Jessie mumbled, still refusing to meet Steele's eye.

"I have to say I was awfully surprised when I heard your brother was going to be defending you."

"Me, too." she agreed under her breath.

"Deputy, you wanna give us a minute?" Bill glanced up at the marshal in surprise, his pale eyes searching the marshal's face before shifting his gaze to Jessie, then quickly back again. The deputy gave a short nod and shuffled out the door, letting the door slam shut behind him without a second glance back. "I hope you've come to accept your fate."

" 'The future is not written in stone' " Jessie quoted, slyly, finally looking up to meet the marshal's stare.

"Ah, but neither is it unbounded." The marshal's eyes narrowed. "You can sit there and come up with all the little sarcastic quips and quotes you want. It doesn't change the fact there's someone in Arizona with a lot of political pull who wants to see you dangling from the end of a rope. And the judge and jury will be more than happy to oblige. Ah," Steele's eyes widened when he noticed the flicker of futility in her blue eyes. "you _do _realize that, don't you? Then, I'm pretty sure you understand, once you're found guilty and sentenced to hang, it'll be made certain mob justice gets to you before the scheduled date of you hanging. No quick snap of the neck for you, Miss County."

"Oh, goody." Jessie sneered, feigning excitement.

"You know, in case you hadn't heard, mob justice took care of that former preacher you had in that little gang of yours. Jim McSwain. Remember him?" Steele asked, not really expecting an answer. "It took him a whole twelve minutes to die. You can imagine what was going through his mind as he dangled there. It was quite gruesome toward the end, I hear. With all his twisting he ended up nearly decapitating himself." Jessie forced herself to remain emotionless at the image of one of her closest friends conjured up in her mind. "Nothing? Nothing at all to say?" Steele fell silent for a few moments, taking delight at the sight of the defeated woman in front of him.

"They're moving you later this afternoon to a room above the courtroom." Steele finally uttered, reaching into a hidden pocket on the inside of his dark jacket and producing a tightly rolled cigarette. He placed it between his lips and lit the end, taking a deep drag before turning on his heel and slowly making his way toward the door. "It's got a nice view of the main thoroughfare. And, they've already started building the gallows, so at least you'll have something to look at."


	5. Trial and Error

Brisco hadn't realized he had fallen asleep, and he wasn't sure what woke him now. The room was dark and his vision had a difficult time adjusting. He sat up, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his body; his body upset with him for falling asleep in the unforgiving chair. He reached up to run a hand through his tangled hair when he heard a small sound behind him. He instinctively reached for the revolver still strapped to his hip when a hand reached out from the darkness and grabbed onto his shoulder tightly, giving a heavy yank backward, sending Brisco crashing to the ground.

Brisco succeeded in keeping a hold of the Colt and pulled it from its holster as he untangled his body from the chair, blinking against the darkness and blurred vision he received when his head made contact with the ground so violently. He aimed in the darkness, only to have the gun kicked from his hand by the unseen assailant. At least the action gave him a spot to look, and he could barely make out a dark form in front of him. Unfortunately, the punch to the jaw, originating from his left, told him the blob in front of him wasn't alone.

Brisco shook off the punch and wound up to return one of his own before someone grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his chest. From the feel of the bulk, the man that held him tight was considerably larger than he.

Around him, the forms began to take shape, but not quick enough for him to anticipate the hard jab to his stomach, effectively knocking the wind from his lungs. The beast behind him held him upright as the shape in front of him sent another blow to gut. He expected the next punch, his vision finally clear enough to take in what was going on around him. Brisco used the extra seconds awarded to him as the form reached back to gear up for the next assault, and pushed back on the capture behind him, using the beast's body to steady himself as he raised his legs up and kicked the shape in front of him with every ounce of strength in him. Brisco then kicked backward, connecting with the man's leg with a satisfying crunch. The pain was enough to receive a howl of pain and a loosened grip, which Brisco used to his advantage. He elbowed the man behind him to gain distance, and spun on his heel to deliver a punch of his own. His fist landed heavily on the man's jaw, causing another unappealing, sharp pain to shimmy up his arm. The bones in the jaw were much more unforgiving than the bones in the hand, a fact Brisco remembered much too late.

The quick movement beside him forced his mind back to the present moment, cursing himself silently when he remembered there was at least one other assailant. The heavy object that smashed against his temple sent him to his knees. The identical blow to the back of his neck succeeded in sending him into unconsciousness.

_**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

He was outside. The cool breeze and the sporadic, fat raindrops that splashed against his skin pulled him back. The slowly rising sun gave the trio around him better shape and Brisco could now see each of the trio's faces were covered, bandana tied tightly around their heads and their hats pulled down low, making their eyes barely visible.

He felt the coarseness of a rope tied around his wrists, and tilted his head upwards following the length of the rope which ended wrapped around the saddle horn of a restless looking mare.

"So, is this how you say 'Welcome to Tucson'?" Brisco quipped, he head throbbing with each word he spoke. The men remained silent. "Because I would just rather you went with a fruit basket." He heard a low chuckle from the man closest to him as he delivered a sharp smack to the horse's rear. _Christ_, Brisco thought as a pained whinny filled the air and the mare took off a breakneck speed. Brisco held on to the rope tightly. Small rocks and pebbles cut at her skin as he was dragged along the street. He squirmed against the rope as dust was kicked up into his mouth and nose, making it difficult to breathe.

Brisco tried to bring his legs up beneath him, hoping maybe the spurs on his boots would be able to cut through the rope, but the erratic course the mare chose to race along, and the constant bumping against the ground made it difficult.

"Whoa!" Brisco cried out, coughing as dust quickly filled his open mouth. "Damn it, STOP!" He tried to tug on the rope, but the effort only caused him more pain. Brisco groaned and wrestled against the thick rope, rubbing his wrists together in an attempt to loosen the knot. When the effort caused the knot to tighten, Brisco resorted to tugging on the rope again, harder this time, ignoring the aching pain in his shoulders. The final tug on the rope caused the horse to come to an abrupt stop. Brisco's body kept moving, however, rolling along the harsh desert floor until the rope became taut again, jerking him into an uncomfortable stop.

"Okay. Don't move." Brisco sputtered, bringing himself up to his shaking knees. "Don't move." he said once more, his voice barley above a whisper. After a brief coughing fit, Brisco fumbled with the knot, tossing the rope away in disgust when the tie finally loosened.

Breathing deeply, he took a few moments to settle his nerves, the growing warmth on the back of his neck reminding him of a matter much more pressing. He had no idea what time it was, but he was certain it was nearing eight a.m. The time his sister's trail was set to begin.

Brisco pulled himself to his feet and swung his aching body in the saddle, urging the mare to full speed with a swift kick.

_**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

"We haven't got all day, Ms. County."

Jessie glanced up nervously at the aged judge. "He'll be here." she said, her voice wavering a bit.

"Eight o'clock means eight o'clock."

"Well, yes, I know, but…" her voice trailed off as she tried desperately to think of something, anything to stall the trial. "Has anyone checked his room? Maybe he's hurt." Jessie offered, the fear she felt for her brother's welfare evident in her tone.

"There ain't nobody there, judge." she heard Steele sneer behind her. "We've already checked."

"Well, he just can't disappear." Jessie shot back. "Something must have happened to him."

"Let's not be so dramatic, Ms. County." the judge muttered. "Obviously, your lawyer decided not to defend you. Which means I am going to appoint Mr. Howell as your counsel, yet again."

"I'm here, your Honor." Jessie let out the breath she hadn't realized she as holding and craned her neck to peer over the heads of the many that filled the courtroom to capacity. An eyebrow cocked in wonder when he came into view, the sight of her brother dressed in only pants and a dark blue undershirt, covered with streaks of mud, his hair plastered to his head caused her to chuckle out of sheer amazement.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked as he took place beside her.

"Yes, Mr. County, I think we are all wondering that."

"Rough night, Judge," he eyes narrowed as he strained to read the nameplate on the bench. "Simmons."

"It appears so. So, Mr. County, do you think showing up late, and dressed as such, is an appropriate way to begin this trial?"

"Uh, I'm sorry, your Honor, I was…a little tied up this morning." Brisco shrugged off the harsh glare given to him by the judge and continued. "Also, I would like to ask for a continuance."

"I gather you would. But, please, amuse me. On what grounds?"

"Well," Brisco paused, running through the pages of his mind, trying to think back to what he had learned in law school. "I, um, I just became Jessamyn County's lawyer only yesterday, and I haven't had time to review all the evidence." The last of Brisco's sentence ended as more of a question then a statement.

"This is ludicrous." The heavyset man dressed in a light grey suit that looked as if it were tailored to him when he was twenty pounds lighter pounded his fist against the table off to Brisco's right.

"Now who's being dramatic." Jessie said loud enough for only Brisco to hear as she rolled her eyes.

"Mr. County obviously has no respect for the court, or for your Honor. Showing up dressed as such, and nearly thirty minutes late, to boot."

"That may be so, Mr. Ludlum, but Mr. County, I'm granting you a short continuance so you can review the evidence and make yourself more presentable. And by short, I mean until noon."


	6. T and E: Part II

**-----------------------------------------------------------------  
Thanks, Alex:)  
-------------------------------------------------------------- **

After a much needed bath, and a quick change of clothes, Brisco ventured back out in search of Mr. Ludlum, unsure where to even began to look, He was extremely wary of the townspeople around him, the rather rude awakening in the early morning hours all to fresh in his mind.

After nearly an hour of searching, he finally located the prosecutor's office, tucked in a tiny one story building behind the telegraph office. Brisco removed the hat from his head before entering, failing to give even a knock to announce his presence. The building turned out to be a one room office, decorated with two heavy oak tables, half a dozen hard backed chairs and a large picture of President Harrison hung next to a slightly smaller picture a man Brisco recognized as Arizona governor, Nathan Murphy, on the far wall. He stopped in the doorway, not expecting the three other men seated around the office, each wearing badges pinned to their chest. His dark eyes landed on the man closest to the doorway. Even seated Brisco could tell the man reached well over six feet and weighed somewhere north of a muscular two hundred and fifty pounds. When he caught Brisco's stare he tossed him a knowing smile before turning his attention back to the paper spread out in front of him.

"Mr. County." Ludlum's annoyed tone drew Brisco's gaze. "In polite societies we like to knock before entering someone's office." Brisco pulled a chair close to Ludlum's desk, glancing behind him before settling down.

"Can we speak in private?"

"Mr. County, these men are deputies for the municipality of Tucson. There is nothing we have to discuss that they cannot be privy to, as well." Brisco sensed the lawyer's superior tone and smirked. The look in his eye solidified the fact Ludlum perceived Brisco as nothing more than a child playing lawyer. Brisco was not seen as a worthy adversary, much less much of a threat. Ludlum believed he needed to do nothing more than entertain the man before him. And it made Brisco's blood boil.

"I understand you believe this trial is already over," Brisco began, his pitch steady, his voice strong. "But I can assure you I am going to see to the fact Jessamyn County has a fair trial. Which means, I begin by talking to you. And we will be alone when we chat about the facts and evidence against my client. If not, I will file for a mistrial, and change of venue, and maybe even get Pinkerton detectives involved so that the next trial will be fair and unbiased." He had watched Ludlum's smug expression slowly fade as he spoke. After the words stopped flowing from Brisco's mouth, Ludlum nodded over his shoulder, remaining silent until the trio had completely filed out of the office.

"I really don't see the need to bother with Jessamyn County's defense, Mr. County. She is guilty. You know it. I know it. And the entire territory of Arizona knows it. You're only delaying the inevitable."

"What are the charges against my client?" Brisco asked, his tone unwavering.

"Murder. Conspiracy to commit murder. Assault, grand theft, and horse theft. And I've also decided to throw in kidnapping. Just for fun."

"And you have facts, witnesses to all these crimes against her?" Ludlum's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, folding his arms, bare to the elbow, in front of him.

"I have fifteen lawmen ready and eager to take the stand. Along with a line of witnesses longer than your arm to the robberies committed in Tucson, Globe, Flagstaff, Mesa, Stanton, Kingman, and Two Guns. Those witnesses will also state Ms. County was solely responsible for the deaths of Wells-Fargo employees, Frederick Long, Martin Kingston, and Lorne Standish; deputy Gregory Welsh, deputy Garrett Reno, Dale Louis, and Marshal Edwin Steele. She also took off with the horses in each Wells-Fargo stagecoach robbery, which covers the horse theft part of the charges."

"And the kidnapping charge?" Ludlum heaved a deep sigh, clearly annoyed.

"Miss County abducted Garrett Reno at gunpoint during the robbery of the First National Bank in Flagstaff, as an obvious attempt to use him as a shield as she, along with the rest of her gang, escaped from town. Unfortunately, Deputy Reno died as a result of a bullet wound to the head, which was fired by a fellow deputy."

"And you're charging her with the murder?"

"She was responsible for it, was she not?"

"Well, I'm going to need to speak to every witness."

"Mr. County," Ludlum interrupted. "I don't see how you're going to be able to do that in a little less than an hour and a half. And you can sit there and make any kind of threat you chose," he continued when Brisco opened his mouth to argue. "But the fact of the matter is, you're in a no-win situation. There's a lot of people who want to see justice brought to Jessie County. Even she knows that. You, however, are just giving yourself false hope. Now, I suggest you go and spend the remaining time with your sister, and not here, trying to fight a losing battle."

"Do you have statements, at least, from each of these witnesses?" Brisco continued, unwavering. Ludlum searched Brisco's face, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I see you shared the same dogged determination as Marshal County." Ludlum muttered as he pulled open a drawer off to his right, pulling a thick folder from the depths inside. "Admirable quality for a United States Marshal. I suppose that helps with your side job as a bounty hunter, as well." Ludlum mocked, keeping the folder gripped tightly in his hand. "However, I hear your father knows when to jump a sinking ship. It's a shame you don't. Here's every statement collected from a majority of the witnesses and lawmen I plan to call to the stand." Brisco took the heavy folder from Ludlum's grasp and pulled himself to his feet, eager to glance over what he could, and just as eager to hear Jessie's side of Ludlum's story.

"Mr. County," Ludlum called out as Brisco pulled open the office door, allowing the warm breeze to float through the sparse room. "As much as I admire you fortitude, I believe it is ill advised. I suggest you let Arizona take care of Ms. County. I'd hate to see you get hurt, as well."


	7. Hanging Round All The Familiar Places

"It's like pulling teeth to get anything around here." Brisco muttered as he watched Bill Jackson slink out the tiny room located above the courthouse where Jessie was being housed for the duration of the trial. A fact he learned of only ten minutes before after trying, unsuccessfully, to locate her in the jail cell he had left her less than twenty-four hours before. After the time spent with Ludlum and the snide comments he received from one of the three men who had been in Ludlum's office, who just happened to be the sheriff, as he tried to locate his sister, he was in no mood to listen to the deputy's half-assed excuses why Brisco was not allowed to converse with Jessie. After nearly two minutes of stammering on the deputy's part, Brisco had lost all patience and composure, choosing rather to go through the smaller man than to try and lay out why he was, in fact, allowed to speak with his sister. And when Bill tried to follow him into the doorway, Brisco nearly laid him out right there, with one quick punch, only to be talked down by a surprisingly calm Jessie. And once she got involved, Brisco was surprised how quickly the deputy backed down and agreed to leave the outlaw alone wit her lawyer, if only for a few moments.

Jessie shrugged but remained silent, shifting uncomfortably, the ever-present heavy chains dragging across the floor as she moved.

"I figured we go over what exactly they're charging you with." When Jessie still remained silent, Brisco pulled a chair next to the bed where his sister sat, laying the thick folder in front of him.

"What's that?"

"Statements. From witnesses Ludlum plans to call to the stand."

"Hmm." Jessie traced the edge of the aged folder with a slender finger, then went back to the attention she had been giving to the clamps around her wrists.

"And seeing as how I have less than an hour and a half before your trial resumes, I figured it'd be quicker for you to tell me the events of every robbery that took place here in Arizona than it would for me to go over each and every one of these statements."

"It probably would be."

"Good." Brisco reached into the folder and pulled a few sheets of blank writing paper and a lead pencil from inside. "So, start from the beginning."

"I don't know why you really need to write this down." 

"So, I can remember it." Brisco shot back, a little confused by the statement.

"It's real simple, Brisco. You put me on that stand and I'll say I did whatever the hell it is they said I did. Simple, easy, and to the point." Brisco heaved a deep sigh and tossed the pencil down in irritation as he glanced up to catch her stare.

"You do that, and you're an idiot."

"Whatever."

"Damn it, Jess." Brisco hissed, his anger reaching the boiling point for the third time that day. "Can you at least pretend to work with me here? Maybe humor me a little bit?"

"Sure. You know what, anything for you." Jessie shot back, sarcasm dipping from her voice.

"I'm trying to keep you alive."

"And I appreciate that, but it doesn't matter. So do whatever it is you want to do, but I'm telling you, right here, right now, I go on that stand, I say I'm guilty."

"Yeah? Why? Because you're stupid enough to be willing to die to protect a dead man in some twisted sense of loyalty?" Brisco asked, angrily, trying hard to keep his voice low enough so no one else would be able to hear. "Tell me, what the hell did he ever do for you?" The flash in Jessie's eyes made Brisco immediately regret bringing 'Doc' Sutton into the conversation at all. But, he couldn't help it. Jessie's flippant attitude certainly was not sitting well with him after all the hoops he had to jump through for her.

"Don't you ever speak in that tone about him again." Jessie growled. "You have _no _idea. _None_. You didn't even know him."

"I'm sorry." Brisco said, quietly. "But I'm trying to help you here. I don't understand why you can't see that."

"I wouldn't have needed you here if you just would have left me alone instead of tracking me to Hatchita."

"So I was just supposed to let you die?"

"Yeah. You were."

"That's a little dramatic, don't you think?"

"Yeah, maybe. But if anyone ever finds out you helped me, you're dangling right alongside me. And I'd feel a little bad about that." Jessie gave her brother a small smile, but when he didn't return it, the grin faded and her brow furrowed. "I'm not protecting anyone, for your information. The man responsible for a majority of the killings I'm certain they're going to blame on me, is still alive."

"So, why don't you just say that?"

"Because I'm planning on dealing with that man in my own way, Brisco. That's why."

"How do you plan on doing that if you're hanging from the end of a rope?"

"I had a plan, that is, until you decided to show up and ruin it for me." Jessie mocked. "Now, I have to stick around here so these townspeople don't take their frustrations out on you."

"You had a plan?" Brisco asked, an eyebrow cocked in disbelief.

"Yes, I had a plan."

"Okay, what was it?" Brisco inquired, fully expecting the pregnant pause that followed.

"Like I'm going to tell you." Jessie finally answered, rolling her eyes.

"Because you didn't have one."

"Yes, I did!"

"You did not."

"Did so!"

"Not!"

"Then tell me."

"No. Because it's not any of your business. So there."

"Yeah, okay." Brisco leaned back as he ran a hand through his hair. "Listen to me, I want to hear about the robberies that took place here in Arizona. I want you to give your accounts, and I don't want to hear anything other then that from you, understand?" Brisco's tone was soft, yet authoritative. Jessie stared hard at him for a few moments before giving a slight nod. Not so much an agreement, Brisco realized, but a motion, meant to keep him satisfied. "Good." Brisco leaned forward and grabbed the pencil tightly in his hand, willing to take the brief accord for all it was worth. "We'll start with Mesa."

_**-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

"I thought the problem was going to be taken care of."

Sheriff Mitt Trent barely glanced up from the overdue cleaning he was giving his Colt revolver, giving the lean man before him a half-hearted shrug.

"I was assured you knew what you were doing."

"Yeah, well, that mare we roped him to wasn't much of one for listening. Who would've thought County could've gotten that horse not only to stop, but to stay calm long enough to keep a rider with her, Mr. Hawthorne." Lee Hawthorne's cold gaze failed to waver, even as the sheriff tried to win the unspoken battle of wills between them. Trent snorted in disgust and was the first to glance away, busying himself with reassembling the nickel plated revolver.

"I'm not asking for excuses, Sheriff Trent. I don't want her brother here."

"What's the big deal, anyway?" Trent asked. "You've already bought off the judge and every member on that jury. That little whore's as good as dead." Hawthorne's weathered grey eyes narrowed.

"I don't need any unwanted attention brought here. The whole trial is just a rouse to keep those folks back East that see the West as full of nothing more than a ruthless, bloody-thirsty uncouth cow folk who deal out justice in their own way. I can't do business with people who think I'm nothing more than a merciless hound."

"Yeah, I heard all that before."

"So having an inept lawyer like Jonathan Howell representing Jessie County is certainly in my best interest." Trent shrugged a shoulder again, clearly uninterested. Angry, Hawthorne slammed a heavy hand on the table, startling Trent and causing the base pin to roll across the battered oak unencumbered and fall to the floor. "You might not think this is such a big deal, but if that Brisco County Jr. gets wind the judge and jury already have their minds made up, he's liable to call in people who really are by-the-book, and might give a damn about justice and law and order. Which means, your little set-up here, all the kickbacks you receive disappear. Vanish." Trent reached down to retrieve the fallen piece of the revolver, the look on his face making it clear he fully understood why Hawthorne was so concerned.

"Then, we'll just call up the lynch mob early." Trent finally said, his voice wavering slightly. "That sort of justice happens all the time. That bounty hunter won't think twice. Well make sure nothing gets traced back to you."

"You make sure that happens. Tonight." Hawthorne hissed, slowly rising to his feet, his eyes still locked on Trent's. "If she's not hanging from the end of a rope by morning, I'll make sure you'll be."


	8. Familiar Places: Part II

"Mr. County, I expect you are ready to continue with this trial now?"

"Uh, yeah-yes, Your Honor." Even though he knew he was far from prepared.

"Good. Glad to hear that." Brisco waited until the judge's attention was directed to the man off to Brisco's right before sending a brief disgusted look the aged man's way and settled back into his seat. "Do you have an opening statement, Mr. County?" Brisco looked up at the aged man in surprise, his heart pounding in his chest. He only had a brief moment to decide whether or not to stand up in front of the jury and make a complete fool of himself, thus blowing any chance of a good first impression he had with the weary men, or bluff his way through a half-hearted opening statement anyone would realize was complete and utter bullshit the second the words passed his lips. He decided against the latter.

"Uh, no, Your Honor, but, uh, I chose to reserve the opening statement…to put on after the prosecution has put on his case." Brisco said, the words tumbling out of his mouth. He smiled in spite of himself; he actually remembered something important from law school.

"Very well. Mr. Ludlum, please begin. "The prosecutor sent Brisco a charming smile in return as he stood, straightening the well-tailored suit jacket before stepping around the table.

"Gentlemen of the jury, "Ludlum began, nodding his head cordially to the twelve men in a greeting. "First of all, I would like to thank you for your presence here today. I appreciate the time you men have taken out of your busy lives to be here today. The court realizes the sacrifices you are making. Life doesn't stop just because we ask you to sit here and listen to us put on our cases. It's a great task we are placing upon you. To sit here and decide the innocence or guilt of a young lady, who by all accounts looks as innocent as a summer's breeze."

Beside Brisco, Jessie groaned, loud enough to receive a disapproving look from the judge.

"Will you knock it off?" Brisco hissed, elbowing his sister in the side.

"What? He's up there spewing such horse shit." she hissed back. "And what is this "I reserve the right to put on my opening statement until the prosecution makes their case" crap?"

"Puts on their case." Brisco corrected. "There's a difference. And I don't have an opening statement yet and I figured it would be better to wait until I had so semblance of what's going on." Jessie rolled her eyes and settled back in the seat.

"The prosecution will prove Jessamyn County willfully and wantonly murdered known sheriff's deputies, federal marshals and innocent citizens. We will also prove Jessamyn County participated in the planning of said murders with her husband, Juno Dawkins. She is also responsible for the kidnapping of Deputy Garrett Reno, using him as a human shield as she escaped a bank robbery in Flagstaff. During her escape, Deputy Reno was shot and killed. And what did Jessamyn County do? She tossed his lifeless body aside, like a piece of garbage." Ludlum's tone was bitter and the expression on his face matched. He turned and stared at her for several beats before continuing. "Several witnesses to her robberies throughout Arizona tell the same story. Jessamyn County is a cold-blooded murder."

"Objection!" Brisco called out, unsure really why.

"What is it, County?" Judge Simmons looked less than pleased with the interruption.

"Um…" he struggled to come up with something, anything. "Is Mr. Ludlum stating facts or is he just stating opinion? Because he is supposed to…state the fact, not just what some people choose to believe." The judge rolled his eyes and turned back to Ludlum.

"Overruled. Continue, Mr. Ludlum." Ludlum smiled politely at the judge, and sneered at Brisco before turning back to the jury.

"You can't blame Mr. County." Ludlum said, shaking his head sadly. "He is, after all, the defendant's sister. No one wants to believe their sister is a killer. Especially one who comes from such an esteemed line of lawmen. And who do you think taught her how to shoot? Who taught her everything she knows? I know I would feel a certain amount of guilt…"

"Objection!" Brisco called out again, his face flushed with anger.

"Sustained. Let's keep this trial about the defendant, Mr. Ludlum."

"Yes, Your Honor. I'm sorry." Ludlum tossed him a sheepish smile.

"Well, it's a good thing you didn't teach me how to shoot. No guilt there, huh?" Jessie smiled up at him, her voice chipper.

"None of this matters to you, does it?" Brisco asked, making mental notes on points to bring up during his own opening statement.

"I already told you I have my own exit strategy. And it would help me out a whole lot if you would just pack your stuff and head on out of here."

"Are you going to fill me in on what that exit strategy is?"

"Nope. You can just take my word for it. Trust me."

"I'm not just going to leave you here." Jessie shook her head and dismissed him with a flippant wave of her hand.

"This case isn't a complex one, gentlemen." Ludlum was saying. "The defendant chose to commit her crimes in bright daylight. She chose to brag about her crimes to anyone who would listen. She mocked the Wanted posters with her face and name on them. She murdered others, even as they begged for their lives. Jessamyn County does not care about anything but herself. Look at her. This doesn't even faze her. She doesn't care. She murdered innocent people and she doesn't even care.

"This is an enormous responsibility we are laying on you today. But I know each and every one of you will choose to do the right thing. Thank you."

"Your Honor." Brisco shot to his feet even before Ludlum made it back to his table. "I'm ready to make my opening statement."

"Very well, Mr. County. You may proceed." Simmons tossed him a look showing he was less than impressed with the Harvard law grad.

"Gentlemen of the jury." Brisco cleared the table and stood tall, refusing to show the fear he felt. "You are here for one reason and one reason only. To decide my client's guilt or innocence. My job is to defend Ms. County. Mr. Ludlum's job is to present facts corroborating the charges against my client. Rumors are not fact. Talk between individuals is not fact. Third party statements are not fact. Just because someone thinks my client is guilty is not fact." He stopped, unsure of where to go from there. He turned to look at Jessie, who went to great lengths to ignore his stare.

"There may be some of you who already have feelings, one way or another, toward my client. But those feeling have to be put aside. It is your job to weigh the facts, as the prosecution presents them, and use those facts, and those facts only, to decide Jessamyn County's guilt or innocence. But you must remember…if you are not sure, _beyond a reasonable doubt_, that Jessamyn County is guilty, then you cannot convict her. And it is Mr. Ludlum's job to prove to you that she is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt." He paused to let the words sink in.

"But I'm not here to discuss the law. I'm sure each of you has already been briefed on your part in this trial." _But, probably not_. "I will tell you Ms County will not be taking the stand, even though it is her constitutional right to." Ludlum glanced up at Brisco in surprise. "She won't have to, because there is no need to." Brisco continued. "Mr. Ludlum will parade a bunch of people in front of you, and each one will say he is sure Jessamyn County is guilty of the crimes with which she is being charged. But not one of them will be able to sate, _under Oath_, they saw Jessamyn County pulling the trigger." He stopped realizing what a long shot his defense actually was. But it was true. For the statements he flipped through, not one of them could say they saw Jessie killing the men she was said to have. The horse theft and assault charges he could fend off later. After all, Ludlum hadn't made a big deal about them in his opening statement, so he wouldn't, either. And the bogus kidnapping charge could easily be dismissed. At least he hoped so.

"If anything, remember how Ms. County was brought into custody. Mr. Ludlum would have you believe she is a violent, bloodthirsty criminal. Yet, she was arrested without incident. Ms. County willingly went with lawmen without a fight. No resistance whatsoever." Even he wasn't swayed by his opening argument. "Thank you for your time."


	9. Last Dance Before An Execution

Brisco collapsed on the edge of his bed, kicking his boots off as he began to unbutton his shirt. Thankfully, after his less than stellar opening statement, Judge Simmons decided he had had enough for the day, deciding to begin witness testimony tomorrow "for the bounty hunter's benefit". He tried not to act too delighted at the judge's statement; his body was exhausted and his mind was spent. All he wanted to do was head back to his hotel room and bury himself underneath the covers until morning.

And that's just what he had planned to do.

Brisco shrugged off his button down shirt, tossing it across the edge of the bed. He lay down atop the covers, much too tired to do anything else, his eyes closed even before his head hit the pillow. A sharp knock at his door kept his mind from slipping into unconsciousness. He grunted loudly as he pulled himself to his feet, slipping the revolver from his holster before answering the door. The memory of the night before all too vivid.

He pulled the door open, not prepared for who was standing outside his room. He lowered the pistol as his eyes widened in surprise, then narrowing in suspicion.

"Expecting someone else?" Brisco Sr. asked, nodding toward the revolver in his son's hand.

"Just trying to be ready for anything." Brisco shot back, stepping aside so his father could enter the hotel room.

"Good boy. How's things going?" Brisco shrugged.

"They could be better."

"Yep. I suppose they could be." Brisco noticed his father hadn't made eye contact once since his son had opened the door. Instead, the marshal's steely eyes meticulously inspected every detail of the modest, furnished room, then the bounty hunter himself.

"How'd you know I was here?" Brisco asked after he felt his father's "inspection" was completed. Brisco Sr. finally looked up to meet Brisco's eyes, his face expressionless.

"If there's one thing I know about you, Brisco, it's that no matter what type of trouble Jessamyn finds herself in, you'll be right there to pull her back out." Brisco silently watched his father as he spoke, unsure of what to say, knowing, as usual, the eldest County was right. "And from what I gathered from the courthouse this morning, Jessamyn is in quite a bit of trouble."

"You were there?"

"I was listening. Where is she?"

"In a room. Above the courthouse." Brisco answered, his eyes never leaving his father's face.

"How is she?"

"She's still the same old Jessie." Brisco thought he caught a brief glimpse of a smile form on his father's lips. "She's pretty certain she's getting out of here."

"That is usually how it goes, isn't it?" Silence enveloped the room, causing a bout of brief claustrophobia to creep up on Brisco. He didn't know what to say, but he knew he didn't want to just stand here, staring at his father like an idiot. There was a reason Brisco Sr. showed up in Tucson. And he wanted to know just what it was.

"I didn't expect to see you here." Brisco began, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

"I wasn't sure whether or not I should come."

"I'm sure Jessie would like to see you."

"I'm sure she wouldn't."

"Then why'd you come?"

"To see how you were doing. And to tell you maybe you should let Jessamyn learn her actions have consequences." Brisco felt a wave of anger wash over his body. He couldn't believe his own father, Jessie's father, was seriously suggesting she hang. There wasn't a doubt in his mind Jessie was guilty of at least some of the crimes they suggested she committed, but he wasn't about to let her die for her indiscretions.

"I'm not going to let her die for those actions." Brisco hissed, his face twisted with hatred.

"That's not what I said, boy." Brisco Sr. shot back, his tone still calm and even. "You keep coming to her rescue, she's never going to learn."

Brisco stared back at his father, wishing he would just leave and let him be. His head was pounding, reminding him he needed to either eat or rest. He almost didn't hear the sounds of the approaching hoof beats on the street below, nor the faint shouts that accompanied them.

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Ace of spades

Jessie flipped the top card over; slightly disappointed to find it was the eight of hearts. She tossed the card aside, the forgotten card joining the dozen on the bed next to her.

Ace of spades

Queen of diamonds. Oh well, she thought. Eventually it would be the ace of spades. If she cared more, she probably would have varied her thoughts a bit more.

She pulled the next card from the stack, smiling slightly when the ace of spades stared back at her. She tossed it aside, before deciding to gather the discarded cards and return them to the deck. Her gaze landed on Bill, who was sitting uncomfortably at his post by the door, his posture telling her he wasn't sure whether he should stand or remain sitting. He gripped the Winchester draped across his lap tightly, giving her a nervous smile when her eyes met his.

"You play poker?" she asked, her lips forming into a devilish half-grin.

"Uh, ye-yeah. I do."

"Wanna play?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in question. Bill's eyebrows furrowed as he pondered her question.

"Um, I don't think I should. I mean, you're a prisoner and all." Jessie rolled her eyes as she shuffled the deck.

"I'm not going anywhere." she argued. "And I'm bored."

"I shouldn't." Jessie shrugged and continued shuffling the deck. "I mean, if Marshal Steele even finds out I let you have a deck of cards…"

"He's not going to. Who's going to tell him?" Jessie's eyes were wide with feigned innocence, a sweet smile replacing the devilish grin. Bill returned her smile, this time, with much more confidence. "So, come on. One game." Bill nibbled on his bottom lip as he thought over her proposal. He finally sighed and pulled the chair closer to Jessie, pausing only when he decided it would be better to leave the rifle out of Jessie's reach. The approaching sound of hoof beats pulled their attention to the street below. The cards slipped from Jessie's grasp as she processed the scene below. Bill rushed from her side and grabbed the Winchester as he sprinted out the door. Jessie's mouth went dry and she tried to swallow. The crowd was much larger and had come for her much sooner than she had anticipated, she figured she would be long gone before they had a chance to muster.

Fear overwhelmed her and she pulled desperately at the chains around her wrists. She banged the metal against the wooden bed frame, succeeding in only breaking off small splinters of wood and even sending a few into the side of her hands.

"Jessie County!" The hoarse voice drew her attention back to the window, her terrified gaze focused on the hooded man on horseback below. "Get ready, girl, cause we're coming to get you!"

"You guys need to leave now!" She could hear Bill's voice float above the dim of the lynch mob.

"And you need to move, or we'll gun you down, too, Jackson."

"Not before I take you out. And maybe a few more of your other men here, too." Jessie smiled. Bill Jackson wasn't all that bad, she decided.

"There's fifteen of us. And one of you. And my boy here will put a bullet in your brain before you even think about pulling that trigger, Jackson. So just step aside. Jessie County ain't worth dying for." Jessie watched as the hooded man held his ground for a few more moments before barging his way forward, followed by nearly a dozen more men. Well, Bill Jackson was almost a nice guy.

Jessie began pulling at the iron once more, ignoring the blinding pain that shot up her arm as the metal dug into her soft flesh. The sounds of their heavy footfalls caused her terror to escalate. Her heart pounded hard in her chest; she was certain she was about to pass out.

"Hello, County." Jessie looked up at the door, sweat dripping from her hairline and down her face as she gazed upon the hooded men.

"Hi. Can I help you?" She could see the man sneer from the slit over his mouth as he raised his revolver. "Whoa, fellas, now wait." She cringed as he fired the shot, tiny slivers of wood cutting into exposed skin as the bullet tore through the iron chains and the bed post she had been latched to. "Hey, thanks. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be going." As she took a step forward the back of the hooded man's hand crashed against the side of her face, the force of the blow knocking her to her feet.

"The only place you're going to be going, is hell, County."

"Now, that's not very nice. And I think I'd much rather just head on out to Nevada. Where I belong and should have stayed." A sharp kick to the ribs knocked the wind from her lungs. Before she had a chance to recover, the hooded man had grabbed the end to the chains and began dragging her across the floor.

"Whoa, wait." Jessie chocked out, her fingers wrapping around the chain to keep the metal from digging into her wrists. She kicked her legs in an attempt to bring her to her feet before they reached the stairs. The hooded man chuckled and pulled harshly on the chain, keeping her off balance. Her body smashed sharply on the first step and the man yanked once more, laughing obnoxiously as her head bounced on the hard wooden steps. The blow was enough to nearly knock her out and she stopped struggling briefly until she regained a sense of where she was.

The oppressive heat of the afternoon had quickly cooled after the sun went down and she shivered as the sweat dried on her skin. As she made another attempt to stand, another kick to her ribs kept her down and once more gasping for air.

She could vaguely feel the coarseness of the rope as it tightened around her neck. When she reached up to pull the rope from her throat, she received a kick to the side of her head, stunning her as another rope tied her arms to her waist.

The hooded man knelt down beside her, cupping her chin roughly, forcing her to sit up slightly.

"We hope you've enjoyed your stay here in Tucson, County. But, now it's time for you to leave."


	10. LDBAE: Part II

Brisco's skin tingled as his blood pulsed through his body; his heart rate quickening with each passing second. He watched as the hooded men flooded the courthouse, dragging Jessie behind them a few moments later. He watched her squirm against the chains. When the largest hooded man delivered a kick to her ribs, Brisco felt a tug in his chest, followed by a wave of rage.

"Well, now, that's not very hospitable of you." He heard his sister quip, earning her another swift kick. "I'm sorry," Jessie continued, her voice strained, "I shouldn't use big words, huh? 'Hospitable' means 'friendly'. I'm sorry if there was some confusion."

"You think you're funny? It's going to be kinda hard to talk once we get you strung up."

Brisco turned sharply on his heel, his rage leading him now. He could hear nothing beyond the pounding in his head and the taunts of the men below. He reached the door in two strides, grabbing for the Winchester rifle he bought before he made his ride out here. A sharp grasp on his arm pulled him back to reality and he found himself staring furiously at the hand that caused him from finishing his murderous rampage.

"What do you think you're doing?" The stern tone forced Brisco's stare upward. His father's face hadn't changed, he noticed, still calm, still collected.

"They're going to hang Jessie."

"I know that, boy. I asked you what you think you're doing." Brisco's eye narrowed and he opened his mouth to answer, only to be cut off by his father's cool tone. "How many men are out there?" Brisco paused as he tried to picture the scene outside. Drawing a blank, he shrugged. "Who's the leader on that posse down there? And what's your plan when you get down there? Or, are you just going to make it up as you go along?" Brisco shrugged again and diverted his eyes back to the hand on his arm. "You know, a blood-thirsty mob is just as likely to hang you right next to Jessamyn and that won't do the either of you any good." When Brisco remained silent, Brisco Sr. let his arm slip from his grip and walked calmly toward the window.

"C'mere, son." Brisco dutifully followed. "Let me tell you your plan of attack. See the leader, over there." Brisco Sr. gestured to the man standing next to Jessie. "He's the head of this little posse. He's the one instigating everything. You can tell by his posture. By the things he yells. And just how willingly the others are to follow him. He's also the loudest. You stand your ground with him, you have a chance of warding the rest of the men off. Everyone in a mob needs someone to follow. You take away that someone, the rest scatter like mice. Trust me." Brisco nodded, his palms moistening as he struggled to keep a tight grip on his rifle.

"You better get goin', boy." Brisco Sr. muttered as a hooded man tightened the noose around Jessie's neck.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You know, we can talk about this." Jessie cried out, the panic she felt projecting into her voice. "I mean, who says we all can't be civilized about these things?"

"I do." the man next to her hissed, the familiar smell of cigar smoke and whiskey permeating her nostrils.

"Aren't you supposed to be enforcing the laws, not breaking them?" Jessie hissed back, the last words strangled as the rope tightened around her neck.

"I'm supposed to make sure you swing, and there's a handsome reward in it for me if I get it done tonight, so I'm getting it done tonight. By the way, Mr. Hawthorne says hello." The name made her blood run cold. She struggled against the binds around her waist as the rope cut off her air. They were lifting her off the ground, she realized, and she began to kick the air feverishly, hoping to connect with someone, anyone. Tears streamed down her dusty face, leaving behind slender trails of mud as her body cried out for oxygen. She wrestled with the rope that prevented her hands from flying up to her throat before forcing her self to calm down. She remembered the stories of men nearly decapitated as they struggled against a posse's noose, the story Steele had told her about Jim still fresh in her mind. If she was going to die, at least she was going to stay in one piece and not give the fifteen hooded men the satisfaction of watching her die a gruesome and violent death. As if being hanged as the life slowly slipped from her wasn't bad enough.

And where the hell was Brisco? Had they gotten to him first? Was he dead? He had to be dead. Or else he would be here now. The tears began to flow much more freely.

She felt the strength slip from her body; her vision began to blur, causing her to blink repeatedly to try and focus. The men under her feet were still taunting her, but they sounded miles away.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard a loud pop, and she fell crashing to the ground. Another series on pops, three altogether, and the night was eerily silent.

"Get away from her." Jessie greedily gulped mouthfuls of air as she rolled on her stomach to get a better look of the scene around her. She felt relief flood her body when she saw her brother aiming a rifle at the man who had taunted her earlier. The man who smelled distinctly like expensive cigars and whiskey.

"At what time did you decide this was a good idea, mister?" The hooded man asked, a slight drawl to his voice to keep Brisco from recognizing it.

"I said 'get away from her'. Get on your horses and go back to your homes. You let the law deal with Jessamyn County. Not mob justice."

"It's going to end the same way either way." He shot back, keeping Brisco engaged in conversation, holding his gaze, Jessie noticed, as his hand inched closer to the pistol at his side.

"Brisco." she tried to call out, but all she could manage was a tiny croak.

"It'll save the people of this town a whole hell of a lot of money if we get it done now. So why don't you take you self-righteous attitude somewhere else, mister. It ain't wanted out here." The hooded man reached for his pistol, his movements swift and nearly undetectable. Brisco drew his own revolver, never losing the grip of the Winchester in his right hand, and fired once, the bullet skimming across the top of the hooded man's hand, skimming flesh from bone. The man didn't cry out, or even yelp, but he did detract his hand and cradled it gently with the other.

"The next bullet goes right into your head. Understand?" The tension was palpable. Each man stood his ground, reluctant to show weakness in front of the others. Jessie stared at her brother, seeing for the first time in her life the set jaw, the determined look, the blood-lust in Brisco's dark eyes. His face was flushed with anger; his hand was steady, aimed directly at the man's forehead.

"I think you're bluffing, mister." he drawled. Jessie could sense the superior smirk on the marshal's face. "You're not a killer." His wounded hand twitched and Brisco fired another round, the bullet grazing the hood, nicking the flesh hidden inside. The man hissed sharply and cupped his ear as a trickle of crimson stained the fabric.

"Third times the charm." Brisco sneered, charging another round. "Maybe it's time to go home?" The man's gaze bored into Brisco's for a few more moments before his shoulders sagged. He nodded and looked over the disguised men surrounding him.

"Let's go, boys! We'll have to have this hangin' party another day." Brisco waited until the last of the men had rode from sight before rushing to Jessie's side, gingerly loosening the coarse rope from her throat.

"What took you so long?" Jessie joked, her voice not much more than a whisper. Brisco forced a small smile, unsure if he should tell her about the fact their father was in his hotel room.

"I thought you had a sure fire plan to get out of here?" Brisco mocked as he helped her to her feet.

"I didn't plan on the lynching party to be so soon."

"Ah. A variable you didn't think of, hmm?" Brisco untied the rope binding her wrists to her waist, offering her a steady hand as her wary legs failed her.

"I guess not." She mumbled.

"You alright?" The new voice unnerved the siblings for a moment, until they realized the voice belonged to Bill Jackson. He looked genuinely concerned, his pale eyes wide, as he offered an arm for assistance. Jessie waved him away, her face twisted in a dark scowl.

"I'm fine. Thanks for the help, by the way." Bill opened his mouth to answer, but he found no voice, he closed it tightly and sheepishly looked away.

"Problems, County?"

"Oh, there you are!" Jessie cried out mockingly. "You know, there's never a sheriff around when you need one."

"Oh, did you need my help?" She looked over the sheriff with disgust, wondering how someone could sweat through a shirt and a jacket in such cool weather.

"Oh, it was nothing really. Just a slight disagreement." Jessie shot back sarcastically. Sheriff Trent matched her disgusted smirk before turning his attention to Bill.

"Take her ass back upstairs. Make sure she's chained up."

"I'm going up there with her." Brisco jumped in, grabbing Jessie's arm protectively. Trent shrugged a shoulder and spat tobacco juice on the ground, missing the bounty hunter's toe by mere inches.

"Suit yourself. You just keep digging yourself deeper, doncha, Mr. County?" The hefty sheriff spat again. "Have a good night's rest, County."

"What a disgusting slob." Jessie muttered as she followed Brisco into the courthouse, Bill's arm gripping tightly at her upper arm.

"And, he's a real charmer." Brisco said in support, holding the door to her room to allow Bill and Jessie to enter.

"Hey, you think you can get me some water or something, so I can clean up?" Jessie asked innocently, a carefree smile upon her lips. The familiar conflicted look crossed the deputy's face as he glanced quickly from Jessie to Brisco.

"Well, I'm the one responsi-"

"He's not going to let me escape." Jessie interrupted. "He's straight as they come, even if it's his baby sister, who he should allow escape while you're getting me some water like any other normal brother would, but he won't. Cause he's really not normal."

"She's not going anywhere." Brisco reassured, his calm tone deciding Bill's answer. The deputy nodded and shuffled out the door, locking it securely behind him.

"Well, at least he's smart enough to lock us in." Jessie said softly, plopping down on the bed.

"You're pretty ungrateful aren't you?" Brisco muttered, settling in the chair Bill had pulled closer to the bed earlier.

"What? I was just trying to convince Bill to get me some water. And what I said is the truth. You're not going to let me go."

"No, I'm not." Brisco agreed.

"So then what's your problem? You're not the one who almost ended up dangling from the end of a rope."

"No. I wasn't."

"Thank you, by the way." Jessie said quietly, attempting to brush the dirt from her face, succeeding in only smearing the mud across her cheeks.

"You're welcome. I'm sure you would have done the same if the roles were reversed."

"Damn straight. I would have been a lot more dramatic about it, though. I like the rush."

"Is that why you do it?" Brisco asked, earning a confused look from his sister.

"Do what?"

"Run around with people like Juno Dawkins and George Sutton?" He watched as her demeanor changed. The over-confidence she usually displayed disappeared, replaced by a solemn, if not depressed, Jessie. The new look surprised him; he had never seen his sister like that before.

"Juno and George are not the same caliber of person. And there are different reasons why I chose to be with both."

"Then what are they?"

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." Jessie stared into her brother's eyes for several beats, searching for answers to questions she didn't know how to ask. She finally let a deep breath slip slowly from her lungs and she shrugged half-heartedly.

"I loved George, Brisco." she said quietly, her words strong. "He wasn't like they said he was. He wasn't like you think he was. His family had the same problem Aunt Elisabeth and Uncle Stephen had." Brisco blinked back in surprise at the mention of their aunt and uncle. The same aunt and uncle Jessie was sent to live with after their mother was killed. Brisco Sr. had made the decision only a day after his wife's death, knowing he couldn't take care of his two year old daughter with the job he held, and he couldn't ask his twelve year old son to pick up his slack.

"We weren't hurting anybody but Mr. Hawthorne."

"Hawthorne." Brisco repeated softly. "The bank mogul." Jessie nodded.

"He also has a major stake in the railroad." Jessie explained. "And he needs the land outside of Tombstone. And those who wouldn't sell, he'd just send his men to kill them. He's the only one we were hurting. We were only robbing his banks, his trains, his stagecoaches. And I didn't kill all those men they say I did."

"I know."

"I only killed the man who killed George. And I only succeeded in hitting him after he shot me twice. So I guess you can say that was self-defense?" Jessie joked lightly, trying unsuccessfully to lighten the atmosphere.

"Probably wouldn't fly, seeing as how you were committing a bank robbery in the first place."

"Hey, I thought you wanted my assistance with my own defense?" When Jessie realized Brisco wasn't going to crack much more than a tiny grin, the solemn look returned. "Anyway, George was a good man. That's why I'm not going to let you sully his name any further. His brothers talked him into going in the first place. To "fight the railroad" they told him. And he asked me to come along, He said I wasn't going to be safe in Tombstone. Hawthorne had already killed Uncle Stephen. He shot him, Brisco. In the back." Jessie's voice raised in anger with each word, her tone almost a shrill pitch. "Uncle Stephen wasn't even armed." She paused to collect herself. "He was going to starve out the rest of us. I just couldn't stand by and let that happen."

"What about Juno?" Brisco asked, deciding it would be best to change the subject when he noticed the murderous glint in Jessie's azure eyes. His sister shrugged in response.

"A girl likes to feel needed sometimes."

"And that means?" He pressed.

"It means maybe you should listen to me. I need you to leave. I need you to get as far away from town as possible, Brisco. I appreciate all your help, but I can promise you, I'm not going to be here after tonight."

"You're sure?" Jessie nodded.

"Juno needs me, too. He'll be here tonight. And not only that, Hawthorne's here, in town. And he wants me dead. And he'll kill you if need be. And I don't want that."

"Wouldn't Juno have been here sooner, if he was coming for you?"

"He wouldn't know I was caught until it reached the papers. And even then, he's in Oregon. It takes a while."

"He wasn't in Nevada?" Jessie shook her head but refused to elaborate.

"He likes it dramatic, too. So I'm begging. Leave me here. I promise you, I'll be fine."


	11. Witness For The Prosecution

He hadn't been surprised to find his father had slipped away sometime during the four hours Brisco spent with his sister. He was used to that by now. His father was rarely in one place for more than a few days; used to drive his mother mad. His time at home when Brisco was younger was spent in three day increments, followed by weeks, sometimes months, of absences. The only time Brisco remembered his father staying at home for more than a month straight was when Ruth County was pregnant with Jessie. And, following her birth, the time spent away from home was less and less. Then, not at all. Nearly a year straight of Brisco Sr. at home. Brisco remembered the feelings of jealously and contempt he felt toward the bubbly newborn. How could a drooling ball of flesh pull Brisco Sr. away from what he always described as "his duty", when Brisco spent years trying to grab the marshal's undivided attention? He had almost felt relieved when Jessie was sent away to live with their aunt and uncle; Brisco Sr. was now all his. But, he soon returned to his old ways, and Brisco's scorn began to grow once again, only this time, directed at Brisco Sr. himself.

His unwarranted hatred caused him to ignore the drastic changes in his sister. His buried feelings of resentment caused him to miss the transformation from wide-eyed, rambunctious, precocious young woman to the irrational, suspicious, brash Jessie of today. And for some reason, that made the anger he felt towards his father burn even more.

Especially after the hours Jessie and Brisco had spent talking on anything and everything they could think of. He was amazed at how fast his baby sister had grown up. Her time spent on the run had been peppered with hours of studying the profession she wanted to so very badly wanted to pursue after a visit to Doc Brighton's office. She had walked away with a sling on her arm and a bruise to her temple after a fall from a tree, as well as a curiosity for medicine. It was obviously a curiosity that refused to die. When given the opportunity, Jessie began to babble on about the newest advances in medicine and whatever strange medical case she happened to read about only God knows where. But then she would catch herself and return to the sarcastic outlaw he knew all too well.

After he decided it was safe to return to his hotel room, she delayed him by asking questions about Harvard. What was the coursework like? What did he do there? What were people like back East? Another hour killed by conversation.

Then, she abruptly told him she was tired and he looked like he could use a few hours of sleep himself. He decided he would stay until she fell asleep, surprised at how fast she slipped into slumber, and how soundly she slept.

Particularly when he finally collapsed into his bed, sleep failed to come.

Now it was time to get ready to face another day in court. Another day to humiliate himself. Another day to fail his sister.

As Brisco dressed, he wondered when Juno would enter Tucson to spring Jessie, how would Juno enter, and would he come at all? Or was Jessie lying?

He decided the latter was not possible. It was hardly a secret how devoted Juno was to Jessie. Plenty of souls were taken, friends and foes alike, by the murderous outlaw over even the most trivial or unintended disrespect directed toward his wife. The only other time Jessie had been caught, by the ruthless self-proclaimed "man hunter" Lord Bowler, Juno masterminded her successful escape solo. Although, word was the only reason Bowler was still above ground was the fact Jessie requested it so. Jessie was a lot of things, but she wasn't a murderer. Her only role in the robberies committed by Juno Dawkins and his gang happened to be planning them. And, if at all possible, no blood was shed when she was around.

Brisco buckled his gun belt around his hips and placed his hat atop his head before exiting the hotel room. It was going to be another hot one, he figured. The air inside the hotel was already stifling. And the air outside wasn't much better.

"County." Brisco caught the eye of the sheriff as he crossed the dusty street, but chose not to give a greeting in return. "Come to watch?" The phrase caused Brisco to halt and cock his head slightly to the side in query.

"Watch what?"

"Well, didn't ya know? She's got herself a new lawyer." Brisco's brow furrowed and he stormed into the already crowded courtroom, his gaze focused steadily on his sister and her first "appointed" lawyer, Jonathan Howell."

"So, when were you planning on telling me?" Brisco hissed, startling Jessie slightly.

"Trust me. It's for your own good." Jessie assured him. "Now you can leave without feeling like you owe me something."

"I'll leave when I'm damned well good and ready to, Jessamyn." He growled.

"Look, don't get angry with me, Brisco. And I was going to tell you, but it's not exactly like I could just go to your hotel room and fill you in on my decision." Jessie held Brisco's angry stare for a few moments longer before turning her back to him.

Brisco found a seat, not ready to leave Jessie just yet. He would decide when that time came, if it even came at all.

"All rise." The crowd barely had time to come to its feet before Judge Simmons grumbled a quick "sit down" and settled at his place behind the bench.

"Ms. County I see you had a change of heart when it came to your choice of counsel?"

"Yes, your Honor."

"Probably one of the smarter decisions you've made in your lifetime. Mr. Ludlum, when you're ready."

"Thank you, your Honor." Ludlum stood and straightened his suit jacket, a habit Brisco suddenly found to be particularly annoying. "I'd like to call Mr. Lee Francis Hawthorne to the stand." Brisco watched his sister's frame closely. Her muscles tightened at the sound of that name. An involuntary reaction when even she spoken Hawthorne's name aloud.

The door to the courthouse opened and a sinewy man of about sixty entered, removing his hat to reveal a head full of thick, grey hair. Hawthorne was well dressed, right down to the polished tie-pin. When he passed the defendant's table, he gave Jessie a smug grin, which she would have most certainly notice had she been looking up at him at the time. But, instead, her head failed to turn in his direction, even the slightest bit.

Brisco eyed Hawthorne warily, scrutinizing his every movement, even as he raised his right hand to the Bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help him God. Hawthorne promised to without blinking an eye, and Brisco had a feeling, Hawthorne planned to do just that.

"Mr. Hawthorne, how do you know the defendant, Jessamyn County?" Ludlum began.

"Well, she robs my banks."

"Objection!" Brisco jumped to his feet and cried out in tune with Howell.

"Mr. County," Judge Simmons scowled, obviously unimpressed. "need I remind you, you are not Ms. County's lawyer anymore. So sit down and keep it shut." Brisco did so without argument. "And your objection, Mr. Howell, is sustained. The jury will ignore the remark made by the witness. Continue, Mr. Ludlum."

"Very well. I ask you the question again, Mr. Hawthorne. But I ask you keep your answer a little less…prejudicial."

"I've known Jessie County since she was a little girl." Hawthorne answered, his voice deeper than one would expect from such a slight frame. She grew up in Tombstone, Arizona after her mama passed. Lived with her aunt and uncle. Her uncle, Stephen Callaghan, owned the livery, hard worker, and he also lived on some land I owned."

"Are you aware of a gang that was led by William and George Sutton? I believe they were often referred to as "The Rowdy Bunch"."

"I'm well aware of it."

"Did you know William and George Sutton personally?"

"I did. The oldest of five boys. The Sutton family also lived on some land I owned."

"What happened to that land, Mr. Hawthorne?"

"Frank Sutton, the boys' father, defaulted on my loan. I took my land back."

"And that was the reason the Sutton boys formed their gang in the first place, wasn't it?" Ludlum asked. "To strike back against you?"

"Objection." Ludlum mumbled, with much less conviction as his earlier protest. "You don't know that."

"Shut it, Mr. Ludlum." Simmons snarled. "Answer the question, Mr. Hawthorne."

"That's what I had heard, yes. Of course, who knows? Their father was a beaten down, old drunk and I heard those boys were the same. Not one good soul in the entire Sutton family. They would have turned out the way they did, even if their father hadn't defaulted on my loan." Hawthorne stared directly at Jessie as he spoke, as if he wanted her to argue back. If it had been anyone else, Brisco was sure Jessie would have cleared that table by now.

"Now, it's common knowledge Jessamyn County left to be a part of that gang." Ludlum continued. "It's not even an argument. She did, after all, marry George Sutton."

"Is there a question there?" Howell sighed. Ludlum grinned politely and continued on.

"Would there be any reason why she would harbor any hatred against you, Mr. Hawthorne?"

"Well, I did kill her uncle. Although, it was in self-defense."

"Could you explain?" Jessie's body was poised for an attack, her hands gripping the edges of the chair tightly. Brisco silently prayed she would continue to keep her cool.

"Stephen was ready to default on his own loan. I visited his farm one afternoon to warn him of his upcoming eviction. He was armed. He raised to fired that rifle of his at me, so I shot him. That's common knowledge, too. I had several witnesses with me."

"You're lying!" Jessie sprung from her seat, her voice loud and high-pitched. "You killed him, you son-of-a-bitch. He didn't have a rifle with him! He was unarmed!" Her last sentence was cut off by a blow to the back of her head which sent her, dazed, into the table. Howell kept her from crashing face first into the solid oak and blocked off another attack from the over-zealous bailiff.

Jessie glanced up at the bailiff, stunned, as a hand flew to the spot on the back of her head where the butt of the shotgun made contact. When she pulled it away, her fingers were coated with blood. "You could have just asked me to sit down." she murmured, her voice slurred. Brisco watched her face pale as her eyes blinked repeatedly. "Brisco." she whispered, which sent him flying to his feet, pushing his way past the people selfishly blocking the aisle, reaching her side just before her eyes fluttered closed.


	12. WFTP: Part II

"I don't care how many times you ask me, County; I ain't letting you go up there." Trent gave the bounty hunter a shove. Brisco blinked hard, trying to control his anger.

"I need to see her." He repeated slowly, regaining the ground he lost from the sheriff's shove.

"I don't care. She's up there with the doc. She's fine." Frustrated, Brisco ripped the hat from his head, sucking in a sharp intake of air.

"Mr. County." Brisco turned his head sharply, taking a moment to glance over Marshal Steele. The bandaged hand, the cut on his ear; Brisco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'll take you up there after she's been looked after, alright?" Brisco gave him a once over before turning sharply on his heel and walking away. He needed some space, some time to himself. As much as he wanted to see Jessie, he knew it would be best if he just walked away.

He continued on for a few more minutes before realizing he hadn't a clue where he was going. He wanted a drink, but he wasn't exactly the most well liked man in Tucson at the moment, and the thought of being called out by a drunkard didn't exactly appeal to him. He was willing to defend his sister in the courtroom. But defending her with a bullet wouldn't exactly help out her case any. Plus, he'd have to run off, justified in the shooting or not, which meant he wouldn't be able to keep an eye on her.

He could go back to his hotel room, but he felt suffocated just thinking about sitting dormant in the tiny room.

He could visit Comet, the one and only thing he could completely rely on in this town. Comet would probably give him an earful the moment the steed smelled him coming; after all, Comet had been without a green apple for three days. So, he nixed that idea, as well.

He finally decided to take a seat outside the stage company, where he could keep a wary eye on the courthouse and monitor the comings and goings of Steele. The marshal was his main focus now, unsettled by the fact the man bore the wounds Brisco had given the masked would-be murderer of Jessie. It wasn't as if he respected the marshal completely when they first made acquaintances, but the fact of the matter was the man was a badge wearing officer of the law. Brisco didn't have to have a high regard for the man, but he sure thought he could trust him. But not all men were as steadfast as his father.

Brisco's attentive eyes scanned the faces as they passed by him, so caught up with their own lives, they barely gave the bounty hunter a second thought. Off to his left, the movement of a mounted cowboy caught his eye. The stranger's dark hat was pulled low over his eyes, his dark overcoat buttoned over his body, nearly concealing the tell-tale bulge of a pistol at his side. The man didn't dare to glance up once as he directed the steer down the middle of the roadway. Brisco's gaze was now centered on the newest arrival in town. An arrival that surely would be noticed by the men whose job it was to keep Jessie captive.

Brisco's dark eyes shifted quickly to the courthouse, where Trent and one of his deputies were entrenched in conversation with the small group of working girls who had wandered over from the Neely Saloon.

The bounty hunter's stare was back on the unknown rider. He stood and nonchalantly leaned against a post, his arms folded loosely across his chest, his elbow propped on the handle of his Colt. His stance was lethargic; his adrenaline was pumping.

The stranger came to a stop in front of the post office and slipped from the saddle. One finger pushed the brim of the hat up slightly, just enough for the man to examine the sea of faces, and just enough for Brisco to recognize the new arrival.

His body tensed. Particularly when Juno Dawkins' green eyes locked on him for a slight second. Brisco casually looked away until he was certain Dawkins had moved his concentration elsewhere. When his eyes landed on the outlaw once more, the brim of the hat covered his face once again and Dawkins was making his way toward the courthouse. Brisco hopped off the wooden sidewalk and followed. Surely Dawkins wasn't stupid enough to try and bust Jessie free in broad daylight by himself.

In fact, that didn't seem to be Dawkins' plan at all. He blended in with the crowd as he studied the outlay of the building. Brisco lingered back, wondering how Dawkins knew Jessie was being held in the courthouse, and if the gaggle of attractive painted ladies were a distraction concocted by Dawkins himself.

Once Dawkins moved on, satisfied with his inspection of the building, the ladies did as well, confirming Brisco's suspicion the ladies were working for Dawkins. He suddenly wondered just how long Dawkins had been in town and how many times he had visited since Jessie's trial began. Was it something Brisco missed? And if he missed it, did Brisco Sr. as well? The eldest County wasn't the type to miss something like that.

Brisco stood his ground by the jailhouse as Dawkins leisurely backtracked to his horse. He reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a small stack of paper, envelopes Brisco noticed upon closer inspection, and disappeared into the post office.

"County!" The sound of his name pulled Brisco from his trancelike state, and he searched for the owner of the voice. Steele stared at him questioningly, his brow furrowed, as if he wondered just what the bounty hunter was doing standing in the middle of the roadway. "If you want, you can go up now." Brisco glanced back at the post office once more before comprehending, almost too late, the stage was barreling down on him. He jumped out of the way and stumbled up the boardwalk. Steele's curious stare followed Brisco as he pushed past him and into the courthouse.

He took the stairs two at a time, nearly colliding with a bespectacled man of about sixty as he burst through the doorway. Brisco mumbled his apologies and stepped aside to allow the man past.

"Marshal says you got five minutes with her, County. Five minutes and that's it." Brisco ignored the deputy, his focus on Jessie. "I'ma gonna be right outside this door, so don't go trying nothing."

"Right." Brisco muttered as the door slammed shut behind the deputy. "How's your head?"

"Well, it hurts." Jessie mumbled, pulling at the handcuffs that bound her wrists.

"I imagine it does." Brisco pulled up a seat and straddled it so he could rest his arms on the back of the chair.

"It seems the judge has decided to, um, take a recess or whatever, until tomorrow." Jessie said, her voice still barely audible, her frustrated gaze on the chain around her wrists.

"Well, I'm sure your lawyer's been informed." The tone of her brother's voice caused Jessie to finally look at him.

"You know why I got a new lawyer, so don't start. I didn't ask for your help anyway."

"Yeah, I know you didn't. Just like you didn't after I found you half dead in New Mexico. Of course, if I hadn't left to find you, you'd be dead, either by the hand of some lawman, bounty hunter, or your own damn stubbornness."

"It's like calling the kettle black." Jessie snorted, glaring up at him.

"You're too damn smart for this, and you deserve a lot better."

"I'm too smart for what?" Jessie asked. "What do you propose I do, Brisco? I can't go around changing the past, nor do I want to, mind you." she added hastily. "This is what I am. This is what I do. And this," she held up her bound wrists, "is just an occupational hazard. I know the risks. Just let me do what the hell I want to do." The siblings stared at one another for a long while, the silence almost deafening. Brisco was the first to fold, sighing heavily as he stood and pushed the chair away from him.

"Fine. It's all you." Without another word, Brisco left, not once glancing back, knowing if he did, he'd change his mind and stay. But that's not what she wanted. And he understood why. Juno Dawkins had come for her. And Juno Dawkins would spring her. And Jessie wanted to make sure Brisco wouldn't be left behind to take the wrath from the townspeople and those looking for a hanging once Jessie was gone.

_**------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

"Looks like your brother finally wised up, huh, County." Trent sneered, his breath hot on the back of her neck as she watched from the window, her brother readied Comet.

"Looks like it." she muttered, the knot in her stomach growing with each passing second. She didn't doubt Juno was coming for her. She just wondered if he'd make it on time now that Brisco wouldn't be here to protect her.

Protect her. Those words disgusted her the moment she thought them. She didn't need anyone to protect her. She could do just fine on her own. So what if Brisco was leaving? She'd made it out of tougher scrapes than this. This was all just a piece of cake.

She caught her brother's eye when he glanced up. He tipped his hat slightly before urging Comet to a walk. She had to bite her lip to keep yelling anything as he disappeared from view. He was right about so many things, she knew. And he was only doing what he thought was right. She'd do the same from him, that was for sure. And she never got to thank him for risking his own life to save hers nearly a year ago.

"Now comes the fun." Trent drawled, a deep chuckle echoing in her ears. With a calloused hand, he grabbed her chin and turned her head so that she was facing him. "Cause I don't suspect you'll be seeing the sun come up tomorrow."


	13. The Escape

The one thing she disliked most about incarceration was the boredom. She had never been good at sitting still for long. Even as a little girl, she'd spend a majority of her waking hours in a constant state of movement, usually driving her teachers mad.

She had a sense of adventure she couldn't quell, a need to roam. That, combined with her overdeveloped sense of independence led her into trouble more times than she could count when she was younger. Uncle Stephen would just laugh it off when she came home hours after dinner had been served, either by her own will or the strong arm of the town sheriff. Aunt Elisabeth abandoned the quest to force Jessie to start acting and looking like the young lady she was, mumbling something about how the apple never fell far from the tree.

Soon, their patience began to wear thin, and Stephen started putting Jessie to work, dragging her along with him to the livery stable before school where he taught her how to break and train young horses, and properly take care of the equines. After school, she was shuffled off Doc Brighton's, where he satisfied her curiosity for medicine and science.

She still snuck away when she could, often in the middle of the night; she never needed much sleep to survive. It was during her after-hours adventures she learned the skill of poker, how to shoot a gun, how to track man or animal. She discovered these talents from a gunfighter called Tampico Kid by most people around Arizona. His real name was a mystery; the only thing conclusive was his mother had been a Navajo princess and his father a Mexican gunslinger. The rest was up to the dime novels. Tampico Kid had taken a young Jessie under his wing and shared with her all he knew, including his native tongues. And when he was killed in a gunfight over a shot of whiskey, eleven year old Jessie started on the path that led her to where she sat today. It could have been argued she could have been yanked back on the straight and narrow with enough prodding from the only person she ever chose to listen to, but four years after Tampico Kid's death, she first met George Sutton, and Brisco lost all hold he had over his baby sister.

Well, maybe he hadn't lost all hold. She would still follow Brisco to hell and back if he asked her to. Just as she was sure he'd do the same for her.

Jessie sighed and began to trace the edge of the metal wrist irons with the tip of her finger. Bill glanced up at her, his eyes wide as he mindlessly shuffled the deck of cards in his hand. "So, where'd the new hired hands come from?" she asked casually, remembering the half dozen new faces wearing shiny new badges crowding the courtroom earlier in the day.

"Marshal Steele." Bill answered. "He rounded up a few more guys to keep the peace until your trial is over. Payin' them twenty-five dollars a day, too, from what I hear." Jessie's eyebrow slowly rose.

"Really. Hmm." she said before falling silent once more.

"You hungry?" he asked, the question sincere. She ignored the deep rumbling in her empty stomach and shook her head. She really didn't feel like eating, anyway. "Wanna play a game of poker?" This time, the question was earnest, like a son asking his mother if she wanted to play with him. She shrugged one shoulder and forced herself to keep from grinning.

"Sure." Bill dragged the chair closer to her bed and used the space between the two of them as a makeshift table. Jessie leaned her back against the wall and folded her legs beneath her as she carefully watched Bill shuffle. He was a sloppy dealer. She'd be able to count the cards and read him like a book; she could feel it. Now, she wondered what he'd be wiling to wager as the game progressed.

She took the cards dealt to her and placed them in no particular order. "What are we going to use to bet with?" she asked.

"I got some matches." he said, reaching deep into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a slightly mashed box of matches.

"That'll work." As Bill dumped the matches on the bed and counted out an even amount for the both of them Jessie stole a glance out the window with the strange feeling she was being watched. The sun had slipped beneath the horizon, leaving everything in darkness. Lights emanating from the businesses below cast eerie shadows along the thoroughfare, and for a moment, she missed the figure across the street. He tipped his hat when her gaze landed on him and slipped between the shadows. Jessie's jaw clenched tightly as her heart pounded in her chest. It was about time.

"Alright. You ready?" Bill's voice pulled her attention back and she forced a toothy smile.

"Sure thing. I guess I'll make the opening bid two matches." she tossed the matches into the "center" of the table and placed her focus back on her cards. Two eights. Eh, nothing to write home about.

"Alright. How bout I see your two matches and raise you two more." Jessie smiled.

"Alright."

"How many cards you want?" Even as he spoke, she could hear the nearly muffled sounds of footsteps outside her room. She stared at Bill, her mind racing. Once Juno entered, there would be no guarantee Bill wouldn't be shot down the second the door opened. And that was certainly something she didn't want to see. So she positioned herself directly across form Bill, hoping Juno wouldn't shoot for fear of the bullet passing through the deputy and hitting Jessie as well.

"Let's, uh, let's go for three." Her heart was pounding so hard the sound echoed in her ears. Her concern was now on the rifle situated just within Bill's reach. If he leapt for it, it would be all over.

She picked up her newly dealt cards. Two Aces and a Joker. If she were superstitious, she would have thought something more of the hand in front of her. But, instead, her main complaint was she actually had a good hand without cheating and it wasn't even for money.

She was ready to up her bet when the door burst open, surprising the both of them. Bill jumped to his feet, his face frozen in terror as Juno aimed the pistol, his finger ready to squeeze the trigger.

"Juno! No, don't!" she cried out. She recognized the look in his eye. The dead, hollow stare. The look that meant someone was about to die. And his wrath should be let loose on Bill. After all, he was the only humane person she'd met so far.

"The gun belt." Juno hissed. "Use your left hand, unbuckle it and drop it." Bill quickly obeyed, his whole body shaking. "And I advise you to not do something you might regret. Understand?" Bill swallowed sharply and nodded. "Are you alright?" Juno asked, emotion flickering in his eyes once they landed on her. His brow creased with worry as he studied the angry rope burn around her throat and the wrap concealing the wound to her head.

"Took you long enough." she muttered ash she slid off the bed.

"Keys." Juno growled to Bill. "Where's the keys?" his voice deepened, his anger apparent.

"Right here." Bill answered quickly, pointing to the ring around his waist.

"Toss them here." Bill hurriedly complied, his body still shaking like a leaf. "Here." Juno handed the ring to Jessie, keeping his gun steady on Bill. "Are you alright?" he repeated softly as Jessie undid her confines.

"I'm fine. Let's go." she let the chains fall to the ground and started for the door, her hand on Juno's arm to urge him along with a little tug.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Juno asked, refusing to budge.

"Can we talk about this later, please?" Jessie begged, keeping one eye on Bill.

"You don't just take off whenever you damn well feel like it." Juno continued.

"You're right, let's go." She tugged at his arm once again when she noticed the furtive movement in the corner of her eye. Juno's vision caught the movement first, and the outlaw spun around, his gun inches from Bill's face, his finger tight on the trigger. Bill had been able to get a hold of the rifle, but was unable to bring it up to fire and it dangled from sweaty hands. The deputy was frozen where he stood, certain he would feel a bullet tear through his flesh at any moment.

"Drop it." Juno snarled. Bill obeyed. "Come here." Juno took Bill by the arm and yanked sharply, pushing the deputy onto the bed. "Put those on." he ordered, motioning to the wrist restraints on the floor at his feet. A frightened look shifted between Juno and Jessie, then back again. "NOW!" Juno hollered, his face flush with rage, his eyes once again soulless. Bill jumped and quickly secured the irons around his wrists.

"Juno, let's go." Jessie pleaded, grabbing a fistful of fabric from the back of his shirt and pulling with all her strength. Juno turned and gave her a sharp shove, which sent her tumbling against the chair Bill once occupied, catching herself before she fell to the ground. In the same moment, Juno grabbed Bill by the collar and pulled him close, the muzzle of his revolver buried deep in the deputy's chest before firing once, sending a bullet into the terrified man's heart.


	14. The Escape: Part II

"Damn it, Juno!"

"C'mon." Juno grabbed Bill's rifle and grabbed Jessie by the arm, dragging her along with him as he eased cautiously out the door.

"You didn't have to kill him." Jessie frowned. Juno ignored her and shoved the rifle into her grasp. She wasn't prepared for the wave of guilt that hit her the moment the rifle was placed in her hands.

"I said let's go." Juno growled when he noticed she was no longer behind him.

"Yeah, we'll talk about this later, too." she muttered. Jessie followed Juno down the flight of stairs leading into the courthouse below. The loud, crisp crack of a large caliber rifle began the assault the moment they reached the bottom of the steps. Juno pushed her back against the wall as the bullets streaked past them. The sound of the shot that killed Bill didn't go unnoticed.

Jessie checked the rifle to make sure it was loaded. "So, do you have a plan?" she asked.

"Of course I have a plan."

"Was this part of it?" she chortled, ignoring the withering look she received from Juno. "Well, I'm just glad someone has a plan."

"If you're going to be a smartass, I could just leave you here."

"I'll be good." she said acerbically, her eyes reflecting the resentment she felt toward the man beside her now.

"County!" Trent's baritone voice thundered throughout the empty courthouse. "You're surrounded out here, County!"

"He's so dramatic." she murmured.

"Did you kill Bill Jackson?!"

"No!" she yelled back, truthfully.

"You're a goddamn liar, County. You'll hang for that, too!" Juno peered around the corner, showing as little of his body as he could as he surveyed the scene outside. A barrage of bullets from the half dozen men he could see through the windows of the courtroom followed.

"What's upstairs?" Juno asked after the deafening bombardment ended.

"How should I know?" Juno sighed and grabbed her by the arm once more before dragging her back upstairs.

"County!!" Trent sounded much farther away. "You got one minute to come out here!"

"Or what?!" she yelled back, enjoying their exchange in spite of herself. She disregarded Bill's lifeless body strewn on the bed, his shirt soaked with blood, and climbed onto the bed to get a better look at what was going on outside. Trent stood outside the front door, flanked by a hefty, badged man at least ten years the sheriff's junior and the bailiff who administered the blow to her head earlier. A sharpshooter appeared on the roof across the street and she ducked back to stay out of the gunman's scope.

"Or we burn it!"

"C'mon." Juno called from the doorway. "This way." She followed him down the hallway to a small closet with one tiny window overlooking the small alley below. It also seemed to be the one blind spot from the hungry eyes below; she and Juno would be able to slip out undetected to the street below, if the window wasn't a good thirty feet from the ground.

Juno pushed open the dirty window and pulled himself out onto the ledge outside. As she watched, amazed, he balanced himself on the narrow shelf as he grabbed hold of the edge of the roof. With a small jump, he pulled himself to the roof, laying on his stomach and leaning over the edge to assist Jessie with her climb.

She glanced down at the street below, anxieties building, her heartbeat beginning to race for the first time since Juno first entered her makeshift cell. She was abnormally calm during the fiercest gun battle, but heights were another story.

"Jessie, we don't exactly have all day." She cursed softly under her breath and leaned out the small window to hand Juno the Winchester in her hand. Once her hands were empty, she timidly stepped out onto the much too narrow ledge towering much too high over the muddied dirt below. "Give me your hand, Jess." She obeyed and he pulled her up without much effort.

"Wait, Juno, stay down." She pulled him back down to his belly when he tried to stand, remembering the sharpshooter across the way. "There's a guy across the street. Before we go anywhere, we need to take care of-" A shot rang out, cutting her off mid-sentence, burying itself into the roof just inches from Jessie's head.

"Too late." Juno pulled his revolver from its holster and fired two shots in return, staving off the return assault just long enough to allow them to roll away from the edge and behind what little cover the chimney offered them.

"They're on the roof!" A voice called out from the ground below.

"We need to get about half a mile that way. That's where the horses are waiting." Juno said, motioning off toward the east.

"Well, this should be fun."

"Are you ready to run?" Juno asked, a mischievous glint in his eye, his lips twisted in a lopsided grin.

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, slyly. She took hold of the rifle once again and readied herself.

Another shot rang in the distance, this time, not aimed at the two outlaws. Jessie peered around the chimney just in time to see the rifle fall from the sharpshooter's grasp, his left hand cupped gingerly in his right, which was quickly becoming stained with blood.

"GO!" Jessie took off running, finding a calming silence as the rest of the men tried to figure out what had just happened. She could hear Juno behind her, his breath heavy.

The edge of the roof was coming very quickly, with the roof of the hotel next door only a few feet away. She continued running at full speed, knowing if she gave what she was about to do a second thought, she'd either freeze up and receive a bullet from a lucky shooter on the ground or miss the edge of the next rooftop and fall. Either way was not a pleasant option.

"They've got some more help!" Trent called out. "Over there!" Jessie had no idea where over there exactly was, nor did she particularly care at the moment.

She cleared the space with no trouble, tumbling to her side when she landed. Juno landed just as hard next to her, yet recovered much more quickly, grabbing Jessie's elbow and helping her to her feet before running again.

"Did you bring help?" she asked, her voice breathless.

"No." he answered as he hoisted her to her feet.

The split second he spent motionless gave the gunman across the street opportunity to strike, sending a bullet ripping through the soft flesh on Juno's side.

"Ah, shit." Juno gasped, falling down on one knee as pain raced through his body.

"No! Juno, come on." Jessie gripped Juno's arm tightly and helped him to his feet.

More enemy guns fired at once, the sound reverberating off the buildings. At the sight of dark crimson staining Juno's fingers, fear began to seep throughout Jessie. The thought that one of them might actually die suddenly became very real. She knew she wouldn't be able to handle the guilt if it was Juno, and she knew she was no where near ready for it to be her.

The next rooftop belonged to the bathhouse and was a much bigger drop than she had anticipated. The building was a story shorter than the hotel and the landing was much harder than expected. Juno grunted as he landed on his side, but again recovered quickly, following Jessie as she swung her body over the side of the bathhouse, onto the tin roof of the outhouse behind the bath, and finally, on the ground. Juno emptied the cylinder of his revolver as he ran, expertly refilling the firearm without so much as a glance down at his hands. A bullet whizzed past his ear and slammed into the building behind him, causing him to turn slightly and fire once, striking the offending man in the chest.

The onslaught came at them with full force, the unskilled men hired by Steele just a day before firing wildly, not taking the time to catch their prey in their sights. If one of them managed to hit either Jessie or Juno, it would be a miracle. The able deputies, however, proved much more of a challenge, and Juno set his sights on them first. As he ran, he fired a series of shots, killing two men off to their left. Jessie took cover behind wooden barrels filled to the brim with oats, taking in the area around her. Juno collapsed at her side, loading his pistol once again.

"You okay?" Juno asked, breathless, the roguish spark still in his eyes. Jessie had learned long ago Juno lived for a challenge, for excitement. He was fearless and impulsive, which is what attracted her to him in the first place. He shied away from nothing and in a position like this is where he did his best work. He was hungry for violence and enjoyed killing. This is when he was at his peak.

"I'm fine, what about you?" Jessie asked, trying to keep her voice strong. Normally, she enjoyed a challenge like this. The adrenaline rush, the high that came along with it. But right now, she was terrified.

"Fine." Juno said sharply as he fired a round square into the face of a heeled man who dared to try and sneak up on the two. "Let's go." They were off again, their eyes darting everywhere, focusing on everything, yet nothing, at the same time.

By her calculations, there were three dead men, and at least four more. Of course, Trent had said the place was surrounded. Did she believe him? She couldn't afford not too.

Why did she make Brisco leave? At the very least, he would have been another gun. And then she would have to worry about his safety, too.

Juno steered her down an alleyway, where they had a little more cover and a temporary break from the onslaught of bullets.

"How much further?" Jessie asked. "I'm not too sure I can keep this up." The rifle was dead weight in her hands, her legs burned; her body was weak from nearly a week without a decent meal.

"Not too far. It's just-" Two rounds smashed into the ground beside them, fired from a lanky cowboy not much older than Jessie. The boy's eyes widened as he tried to fire once more, unaware all too late he were out of bullets. Juno sneered and fired once, striking the kid above his right eye. Juno gave Jessie a slight shove toward the open door on their left; a side exit for a saloon that had undeniably once been filled with patrons who wisely chose to leave once the gunplay started.

"How many more are out there?" Juno asked. She turned to look at his as if he had grown another head.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Well, give me a guess!"

"Four. Maybe more. Probably more. More than likely more."

"Alright. The horses are only a few doors down." Juno winced as a sliver of pain coursed up his side. Jessie's eyes widened and she placed a protective hand on his shoulder. "I'm fine." he said sharply, reading her thoughts. "Let's go."

With a quick, precautionary glance out the back door, and another thunderous round of bullets sent his way, Juno fired a shower of protective rounds as he and Jessie burst through the back door.

Two more men would fall, and Jessie would suffer a scratch to the side of her cheek from a bullet that traveled a little too close for comfort before they reached the horses Juno had promised. She swung expertly in the saddle, barely missing a beat, and urged Sancho to go as fast as he was physically able, close on the heels of Juno. Sensing the exigency of the situation, the steed galloped hard, its hoof beats drowning out any sound of the men behind them. It would only be a matter of a few minutes, if that, until they were on there own horses and fast on their trail, and each outlaw knew it. Jessie's freedom was only half accomplished.


	15. El Final

_**San Francisco, California**_

It was only mid afternoon and the saloon was filling quickly to capacity. The sign out front advertising the arrival of a new showgirl was certainly the culprit. Brisco sipped his beer as he scanned the faces of the newest arrivals. Finding no one interesting, or familiar, he turned his attention back to the week old copy of the _Chronicle _Ellie had stashed away for him. It wasn't all too surprising she had made the front page. Nor was it too surprising the headline screamed Jessie was aided in her escape by thirty to forty armed bandits. The subsequent article described the mayhem that ensured, and the path of wanton destruction the gunmen left in their wake.

Brisco pushed the newspaper away from him and downed the last of his drink.

"Want another?" Ellie asked, removing the empty glass from the bar. Brisco shook his head. "Your room's ready if you want to head on up." Brisco nodded and pushed himself away from the counter. "You need anything, let me know, huh?" she called after Brisco, her voice barely audible above the increasing din of the saloon. Brisco waved an arm in reply.

The short climb to the top of the stairs was more demanding on his exhausted body, the weeks' events taking toll. He was tired, physically and emotionally. All he wanted was a hot bath and a good night's rest.

What he had done for her in Tucson would earn him his own place at the gallows if anyone found out. He knew it then, but he chose to do it anyway. One shot was all it took. Not that she truly needed it. Jessie would have been quite capable in getting off that rooftop alive if left to her own devices, but it made him feel better.

Brisco closed the door to his room behind him, securing the lock before giving the room a once over. Just the way he had left it.

Brisco tore off his jacket and kicked off his boots before collapsing onto the bed. He decided he could do without the bath. What his mind needed most was respite

_**--------------------------------------------------------------------------------**_

_**Mexico**_

The afternoon sun had finally disappeared behind the mountains, leaving the dirty streets encased in darkness, the only light source emanating from the half dozen saloons open and filled with rowdy patrons. There was no need to light up the streets of Ojo de Agua at night. Most of a man's time was spent at the saloon, gambling his newly ill-gotten gains away and maybe spending the night with one of the many working girls who sashayed between the tables before hitting the trail in the morning.

The air was still thick and heavy with moisture, the sweet smell of a threatening rainstorm filling her nostrils as she exited the saloon. It was too loud, there were too many people, and Juno wouldn't play the tables even if she wanted to. On top of that, Juno had a hawk-eye watch on her since leaving Tucson, smothering her even more. It took a rather engrossing game of poker to get her out of there, even if it was for just a brief minute to have a quick smoke. No telling how enraged Juno would get if he looked up and actually noticed she was gone.

She stuck a neatly rolled cigarette between her lips and struck a match against the handle of her pistol. She could feel the faint heat from the match head's flame as she lit her cigarette. After extinguishing the flame, she tossed the match aside, unaware of the figure next to her until he spoke.

"Got a match?" The voice startled her, but she held her place, the familiar scent of Marshal Steele mixing with the tangy air.

"Nope." she muttered, elaborately stuffing the tiny box of matches into a trouser pocket. "If you've come to take me in, you're dumber than I thought."

"Nah." Steele began, moving so he was standing shoulder to shoulder with her. "I'm not here to take you in. It'd be an automatic death sentence for me. There's no way I'd make it to the border. Give me a little credit."

"You were dumb enough to come down here."

"Maybe." Steele crossed his arms tightly over his chest and took a deep breath, allowing the air to escape slowly from his lungs before continuing. "I thought you'd be a tad bit nicer considering I know who fired that shot that disabled the sharpshooter on the rooftop across from the jail house." Jessie's eyebrows raised in feigned interest.

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, you know more than I do." Steele turned his face toward her and met her gaze.

"I think you know." Jessie's eyebrows dropped and she studied the marshal carefully. "And I think you know that single act could secure a spot hanging right next to you." Steele said thoughtfully, his gaze focused back out at the empty street I front of them.

"You'd have to prove that. " she said quietly. Steele grinned, but didn't turn to meet her gaze.

"You know that's not true. "

"You were right." Steele muttered after a few moments. "When you said my job was to enforce the law. Not break it." he explained when he caught her confused stare. "And letting you sit through an unfair trial…" The marshal paused as he searched for the words to say next. "Well, no matter how I feel about you, County…everyone deserves a fair trial. Even those who are guilty." The two feel silent once more. Steele was the first to break the calm, heaving a deep sigh and beginning to rock back and forth on his heels. "Besides, it's rather fun chasing you down. Just remember," His gaze met hers once more, "you can't be in the company of a murderous gang of thieves forever. And the moment you're alone…you're mine. Just so you know." Steele tipped his hat and stepped off the wooden sidewalk to the street below. "Miss County."

"You know," Jessie called out as Steele began to walk away, "if you hadn't killed my husband, your brother would still be alive. Just so _you _know." she hissed.

The marshal stood stoic in the middle of the empty street, gazing thoughtfully at the outlaw in front of him, his stare unnerving her slightly. "There's probably something you should know, Jessie County. I was aiming at you." A tiny smile spread across his lips as he spoke. "Sutton noticed and purposely got in the way. To save you." The smile grew as Jessie's smug look faded. "There must be something about you, County. Men risking anything and everything for you. Sutton, Dawkins, your brother…hell, even me." Steele chuckled and turned back around. "See ya around, County, and don't do anything stupid like getting yourself killed before I get a chance to bring you back in."


End file.
